Harry Potter: Jedi Knight of the Republic
by Jed Rhodes
Summary: Harry Potter is a Jedi Knight, trained to meet his special destiny. Will he rise to the challenge, or will the Dark Side triumph once and for all?
1. Chapter 1

1

The knight stepped forward, scanning the row of near-identical houses with a keen eye, seeking one house in particular: he was here seeking a child, merely a baby, but one who had a destiny of great importance, or so he had been told. Certainly, coming here to get him – a journey that not only traversed the depths of space but also the barriers between dimensions – was a step further than the knight would normally have considered going to. However, he had his orders, and those included finding this boy.

There – the knight spotted the child. He was lying on the doorstep in front of one of the houses, a dull, suburban affair that looked near-identical to the houses around it, almost as though the owners were deliberately trying to be exactly like everyone else. It was a cold enough night but those who had left the boy here had left him in a lovely warm blanket. The knight walked up to the doorstep, and knelt by the child, inspecting him. He was sleeping as soundly as – well, as a baby, the knight smiled, thinking of the aptness of the phrase, and were it not for the fact that he had been left out on a front doorstep and the fact that he had a gaping, lightning-bolt shaped gash on his forehead, one might have mistaken the boy for a normal child.

This knight did not look, sound or feel like you would imagine a knight should – well, not a knight from the small, primitive, but nonetheless uniquely charming (in the knight's opinion) planet known as Earth, anyway. He was tall and appeared strong, as you might expect, and there was a certain piercing intellect in his eyes and nobility in his brow, but instead of wearing primitive plate armour that restricted his movements, he wore simple robes more akin to those a monk or nomad might wear, that let him move gracefully and with ease. His hair was a far from a monk's hairstyle as one could imagine – long, dirty-blonde hair that cascaded down his back, with some grey hairs dotted about, matched by a short, neat beard on his face.

His sword – such as it was – was a weapon infinitely more elegant than any simple metal blade, and more importantly, at least from his point of view, it was unique to him, every inch of it designed and built by him to fit his hand like no other weapon could. It was an extension of him, a weapon as much a part of him as his hand or leg.

This knight was also special in another way, a way barely known on this world (not unknown, for there were those trained in the way this Knight was who made their residence on Earth). He was gifted with the Force, a mystical energy field known to many where he came from but scarcely regarded at all here. The Force bound all living things in its luminescence, as the knight knew and had known since he was a small boy. It flowed here as strongly as it did where he came from, albeit in different ways that it took him a little while to get used to, and with it this knight was transformed from but a man, into a Jedi. His name was Qui-Gon Jinn, and he was a Jedi Knight, one of that remarkable Order of beings who served the Galactic Republic.

"I am here," he said into his small communication device, speaking to his Master. The line was crackly – after all, the signal had to traverse a Force-created portal and various other spatial distances – but nonetheless he knew that his Masters could hear him. "The child is exactly where your contact said he would be."

"Good, good," the reply came, in an ancient voice made tinny by the machine translating it. Hearing that voice made Qui-Gon smile at the memories it summoned, memories of youth in the Temple and of stern admonishment, but also of laughter that was far too childish to have come from an eight hundred plus year old. "Take the boy, you must, and to our universe bring him back, and quick you must be – agents of darkness there are on that world."

Qui-Gon did as he was ordered, and picked the boy up, as gently as possible – he did not wish to wake the child up and have a commotion after all. The boy stirred but did not cry. He was brave indeed to endure the cut on his forehead, Qui-Gon realised with mild upset. The cut had scabbed over but when it was first made no doubt it would have bled profusely.

"Master," he asked through the comlink, "why do we not simply leave the boy here? He'll be fine with his family." He had questioned this before, but he had not received a satisfactory answer – merely been told to come here and collect the child.

"A task, he must perform, when older he is, and his training was requested by a friend," came the reply, sharp toned. Clearly, Qui-Gon's question was not welcome. Well tough - Qui-Gon was known as a maverick for a reason, and he would _not_ just blindly follow orders here, not with a child's future at stake. "Now hurry you must!" the voice continued. "To harm the boy, the agents of darkness there seek. With us, safe will he be."

He was trying to appeal to Qui-Gon's sense of protectiveness. Normally Qui-Gon wouldn't let it work but he wasn't feeling that argumentative and after all, his master was right. The boy would indeed be safer with the Jedi Order than he would being left on a doorstep.

"As you say, Master Yoda," he said acquiescently, clicking the communicator off. He quickly stowed the device away and, careful not to be rough or to shake the child, he took the young boy with him. He briefly contemplated doing something about the scar, but decided it was best to leave it to those more competent at healing. Briefly, he wondered why the child had to leave, because he knew as well as Yoda that the child would need to return; something to do with a… "prophecy?" That was what he had heard in the briefing. But Qui-Gon Jinn wasn't really worried about that.

The Will of the Living Force had to be trusted, as Qui-Gon had always known even as a boy, and he wouldn't stop trusting it now, especially as it had started having far reaching consequences.

* * *

><p>Qui-Gon stepped through the shimmering Force-portal that had taken him to Harry Potter's universe, back into a small room in the Jedi Temple. The portal itself was the creation of the ancient Jedi, who had experimented with inter-dimensional travel. Using the Force to create portals was now a rare but existent technique few could master.<p>

To his relief, Obi-Wan Kenobi, his fifteen year old apprentice, stood waiting for him, a concerned frown upon his face. Travelling a portal wasn't meant to be dangerous but caution was recommended, and Obi-Wan always demonstrated due caution, even when his Master did not.

"Did it work?" the Padawan asked softly. He looked at the child that lay sleeping in Qui-Gon's arms, and almost smiled – he would have actually smiled but this was a risky plan: had the portal closed, Qui-Gon would have been trapped forever.

"It worked perfectly," Qui-Gon smiled at his young apprentice. "The boy's retrieval was comparatively easy, if I do say so myself." The shadow of a frown crossed the Jedi Master's face. "Whatever dark forces there are on that world, they did not act."

"Overconfident, you must not become," a wizened voice came, admonishment in its tone, and the small figure of Master Yoda came up towards the Jedi, the ancient Jedi leaning heavily upon his gimer stick, eyes focused on the baby. "Chose not to act, they did. Because of their master's defeat, this is. Rely on their inaction again, we cannot."

"I understand Master," Qui-Gon said, bowing humbly. Yoda nodded grimly, apparently satisfied with this answer.

Jedi Master Mace Windu came up behind Yoda. He was a tall, dark-skinned and powerfully built man, whom some might even call imposing, and yet his expression was surprisingly gentle as he looked at the baby sleeping in Qui-Gon's arms. The Korun Master slowly walked up to Qui-Gon and placed his hand on the baby's temple, softly, as though afraid of harming the boy.

"He does have potential," Mace admitted grudgingly, getting a feel for the boy's Force-signature, sensing his presence. "Strong potential," he added. "But it's dangerous having him here. The portal is –"

"Reliable as ever, the portal is," said Yoda sharply.

"Which doesn't say much," Mace argued. "Why should we take the boy? If he's as important to their efforts in fighting their Dark Side as you say, surely it would be better to leave him there."

"Owe Dumbledore much, I do," Yoda replied testily, "and it is he who requested that we train the boy, if possible it is to do so. Is it?"

Mace nodded slowly. He didn't like this. It was a risk and an unnecessary one at that. But Yoda's wisdom was great, and Mace was willing to trust it, even here and now, despite the fact that this boy was as important as he was.

"So what is the plan, Masters?" Qui-Gon asked.

"A Jedi mentor the boy will need," Yoda replied shortly, looking at Qui-Gon. "Not a Master, old enough he is not, but perhaps... a guide? To help him through the challenges. There are things the boy must know that initiate training will not teach him." Closing his eyes, Yoda frowned. "Even the year he returns, challenges will he face that test him. Worry not, Padawan Kenobi," Yoda added, pointing his stick at Kenobi, who had a look that could be described as "concerned" upon his face. "Affect you, this will not. Master Qui-Gon – guide the boy, you must. Help him where possible. Padawan Kenobi, aid your Master in this, you may. Assist the boy in dealing with the troubles of Youngling life that survived, you have. Too old to remember such challenges, Qui-Gon is," the ancient Master added, smiling mischievously.

Obi-Wan smiled in relief, and so too did Qui-Gon, who accepted the ribbing good naturedly.

"I accept this task, Masters," the older Master said, bowing to them both. Mace looked at Harry and sighed. There were shatterpoints around the boy but he was too young for them to be sensed yet.

"It is settled then. Good luck," He said, giving the boy to Qui-Gon, "And may the Force be with you, Harry Potter."

Obi-Wan took the boy from Qui-Gon and gently carried him out of the small room, but Yoda and Mace remained, turning to look at Qui-Gon. The Jedi Master looked at the two of them expectantly, knowing they would soon ask their questions.

"The Force, strong in that world it is," Yoda began, bluntly. It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

"Yes Master," Qui-Gon replied in confirmation. He frowned, trying to recall the odd sensations in the Force of that world. "It saturates parts of the world in a way I can scarcely believe - it felt as though I was swimming in the Force."

"The Wizards and their use of the Force," Yoda nodded, sagely.

"Are you suggesting that they are all potential Jedi?" Qui-Gon said, halfway between alarmed and intrigued by the possibilities this threw up.

"Of course not," Mace put in, sharply - Windu was known for being fairly vocal in his opinions when it came to even a possible breach of the code. Qui-Gon looked to Yoda.

"Correct, Master Windu is," the diminutive Master confirmed. "Though the Force saturates the wizards, comparatively few are strong enough to be Jedi."

"They use wands as focuses," Windu added, with a glance at Yoda for confirmation. "But without them most would barely rate high enough for the agri-corp."

Qui-Gon stood thoughtfully, thinking over what the two Council Members had said.

"If that place has the Force is such strength, it can only be to the betterment of any Jedi assigned there," he said at last. Yoda and Mace Windu exchanged small smiles.

"Counting on that, we are, Master Jinn," the ancient Jedi Master said.

* * *

><p>None of those involved in the plan to transfer Harry to the care of the Jedi had expected it to go unnoticed. Least of all Albus Dumbledore, man of many plans and thinker of many deep thoughts. This plan was a late replacement for his plan to simply leave Harry at his aunt and uncle's home - a risky plan, if he was being generous to himself, for the Dursleys were unsuitable at best for the purpose of raising the boy. Dumbledore thus concocted - admirably quickly - a new plan, although in the process he had – purposely – neglected to inform those who he had developed the earlier plan with of this change.<p>

Now, the anticipated backlash began. Minerva McGonagall had burst into Dumbledore's office, glasses askew (the most untidy Dumbledore had ever seen her) and spoken loudly and quickly about the fact that the boy was not at his relatives' home. In fact, he was nowhere anyone could find him. She was, naturally, somewhat worried about this, having been very involved in the plan to put him there.

"The boy's disappeared, Dumbledore!" she said, flustered beyond belief. "He's not at the Dursley's home, not anywhere! He's just… gone!"

Dumbledore had to suppress a smile. It wouldn't do to be grinning at a time like this, especially with Minerva so flustered. He calmed his emotions exactly as he had been trained to, and relaxed himself. There were many things he was grateful for, the ability to suppress his emotions when needed most of all.

So it had all gone as he had intended it to go, which was a rarity in these days of darkness. He knew he could rely on his old friend to come through for him. He always could. Luck – if one chose to believe in luck – was on his side. Now if only the rest of the plan would come to fruition so quickly.

"Minerva, please relax," he said, holding up his hands to placate her. "I had Harry transferred somewhere discreetly – purely until he begins Hogwarts."

"But… but what about the plan? The Dursley's?" McGonagall asked, shocked at this.

"The dropping off of Harry at the Dursley's was a complicated ruse," Dumbledore replied softly. "I regret the deception, Minerva, but it was necessary; only myself and one other know of Harry's… exact location."

McGonagall still looked unconvinced, but Dumbledore smiled serenely. "Don't worry, Minerva, everything is under control."

Minerva McGonagall trusted Dumbledore with her life, so accepted his word. But she wasn't happy with this, and felt the need to voice these frustrations.

"And what happens when the wizarding world learns of his disappearance?" she asked sharply. Dumbledore bowed his head slightly, regarding her from over the top of those half moon spectacles.

"They won't," he said shortly, and that was enough. McGonagall nodded curtly, mollified somewhat but not enough, and walked out, barely paying any attention to the man who entered the room as she exited. Dumbledore though, paid a great deal of attention to Severus Snape, who looked thoroughly miserable.

"You said you would keep her safe," the tortured looking man began hoarsely.

"I could not have saved them," Dumbledore said, softly. His eyes betrayed his great sadness at the loss of James Potter and Lily Evans, both good friends. "They placed their trust in the wrong man. Rather like you. But the boy lives."

"Why should I care about the boy?" Snape snarled angrily. "He's Potter's brat son..."

"You should care because Lily cared," Dumbledore said, still soft-toned. "She cared enough to sacrifice her life to save Harry. Surely that makes him worth something."

Dumbledore knew his calm demeanour would be essential to calming Snape down. Eventually, the other man sat down, broken, the truth of Dumbledore's words having gotten through to him quite easily.

"He'll be safe," Snape began. "The Dark Lord is gone..."

"Voldemort will return," Dumbledore said – of this, if little else, he was certain. "And when he does, Harry Potter will be at the top of his list of targets."

Snape seemed to consider this, thinking over what Dumbledore had said, and then he sighed. "What must I do?" he asked, resignedly.

"I wish to make you an offer, Severus," Dumbledore replied. As he detailed the offer, Snape frowned, at first confused, then suspicious, but when Dumbledore had finished, he realised that what was being offered was something that would help him overcome his grief, something that would allow him to pass his hatred. He tilted his head slightly.

"You are serious," he stated more than asked. Dumbledore nodded his head once, and then Severus, blinking his eyes to try and get his head around this, nodded as well, accepting the offer in the spirit it was given. Then he stood, Dumbledore smiled at him, and they began to talk of the future.


	2. Chapter 2

2

For ten years, Harry Potter's life had been no different to every other Jedi Youngling's life. He had his friends in his Youngling clan. He learned how to meditate, how to feel the Force flowing within him, he learned the Code, and what it meant and represented to the Jedi Order. He had learned Form I of lightsaber combat, Shii Cho, at the same time and pace as all the other younglings in his class, practicing the velocities with the same little remotes that every youngling trained with.

This similarity to everyone else was a deliberate decision on the part of those who deemed that he should be trained: he could not be _that_ different. He could not be made aware that he was different, although he knew a fair bit about his past and what had happened to him. He knew that his parents had been murdered by a Dark Lord (although he rarely spoke of it) although he never really spoke of it, nor was he asked to.

He was, however, _right_, in a way that his tutors all understood.

He was noble and calm and polite. He knew the ways of the Force as well as could have been expected from any child his age – which is to say, he knew he was but a humble student of the Force and that whatever rank he achieved, he would always be a student in all the ways that mattered. The ways of the Force were his ways, and the Light Side flowed through him.

He was Jedi. A true Jedi in the making. All the Jedi trainers, from Cin Drallig to Yoda himself, could sense that the boy would make good on the investment in time and effort they had put in, which needless to say filled them with great pride.

He was the normal height for his age, with long jet black hair that he had tied into a ponytail. His eyes were emerald green, and his face usually wore an expression of utmost calm, as it should. He wore no glasses, the imperfection in his eyes having been repaired by surgery and Force-healing. He did however retain a scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt, upon his forehead, a remnant of when he was a child and a Dark Lord had come to his parent's house...

He had nightmares, sometimes, about that night. Green light. Screams. The high, cold laughter. A searing pain. However, these nightmares plagued him less and less as he got older and gained more control over his abilities.

Despite all that he was similar to his fellow younglings, he was not _just_ trained as an ordinary initiate.

Yoda had known for the longest time that the boy would need additional training if he was to survive the trials that he would have to face when he finally returned home, trials that he would be faced with from the moment he returned there, trials that would test him in mind, body and spirit. Although Harry knew it not, he had a special destiny to fulfil, a destiny Dumbledore had taken great pains to explain to Yoda and Yoda had promised to see through as best he could.

So, as the ancient Jedi Master had suggested on the day that Qui-Gon had brought him to this universe, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi, whenever they were available, would give Harry additional training.

The two would teach him other lightsaber forms (specifically Ataru, Qui-Gon's favourite, and Soresu, something Obi-Wan was tinkering with). They would also give him additional training with the study of the Force.

Obi-Wan would help the boy with his sparring technique. Qui-Gon would speak to him of the Living Force, the part the Jedi had to play in the universe around them.

The two elder Jedi had even helped him build a lightsaber, years ahead of schedule for a Jedi youngling, because Yoda knew the boy would need to be armed against the coming darkness. The boy vividly remembered that day, for it had been one of his most anticipated trials, and for it to come to him faster than normal was a thrill, although he hid the extent of his excitement in order to not disappoint his masters and mentors.

* * *

><p>He had sat in the caves on the planet Ilum, meditating as he had been trained to, and had slowly searched in the Force for the heart of the weapon he had to build.<p>

It had taken him many hours of meditation but he had found the crystal – to him, it had merely _felt_ right, as though he and it were bonded in a way that could not be explained to those without Force-sensitivity.

The boy had summoned it to his position through the Force and reverently placed it inside the shell of a sabre hilt he had built – this was an achievement he was especially proud of.

The hilt looked considerably similar to Qui-Gon Jinn's blade – especially in the long grip section – but as well as that deliberate respect to his older mentor, Harry had, in deference to Obi-Wan (who had aided him many times in ways Harry would never have asked Qui-Gon to), made the power cell section at the bottom of the hilt reminiscent of the Padawan's blade hilt The final effect was a beautiful combination, just as the Jedi youngling had intended. When he had finished assembling the blade, he activated the lightsaber, feeling the Force flowing through him and connecting him to this beautiful thing that was more an extension of himself than it was a weapon or tool.

It hummed softly and Harry lost himself in that humming... it had a rhythmic quality to it that he loved, deeper and more powerful than the training blades he had become accustomed to.

The blade was emerald green, like his eyes, and as he gave it a practice spin, and then a few moves, and then held it in the first stance of Shii Cho. He smiled to himself, and then for a moment, he felt like one of the great Jedi heroes of old. He spun the sabre, twirled it, jump slashed using it, and then, feeling self-conscious, he shut it off again. His smile was even wider now, as he and the blade stood there in the caves of Ilum, together, at the beginning of what Harry was certain would be a special destiny.

He immediately chastised himself for this thought – a Jedi does not seek adventure or excitement. But at the same time, Harry felt certain that he and this weapon together would serve peace and justice, and that thought made him happier than he could possibly describe – it felt as though he would be able to help the people of the galaxy, and that made him feel truly content.

"Harry!" a voice called into the dark caves. The boy looked up to see Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, the two who had brought him here to Ilum to make his lightsaber, coming toward him. 'They must have heard the weapon activate' the youngling thought. The younger of the two Jedi knights smiled at Harry as the two approached him.

"I guess it worked then," he said.

"You might say that," Harry replied. He held up the hilt for examination and the two men smiled, both recognising the honour of being inspiration for this most personal weapon. In making the blade like this, representing both of them, Harry was recognising – and thanking them for – the influence they had on his life.

* * *

><p>And why should he not thank them? The two of them were helping mould Harry into what they knew he would need to be, and in the process they were helping mould him into the Jedi he <em>wanted<em> to be.

However, although he was normally code-perfect in every detail, there was one thing Harry Potter did whenever he got chance that, had they known about it, he was sure his masters would not have approved of.

Whatever the two older Jedi had taught him, be it lightsaber forms or new ways of seeing the Force, he tried to pass on. Not to every youngling in his clan, but certainly to his two best friends, Castorabusallio Voraainsar, a youngling from the warrior planet Dactar with bright ginger hair and a cheery demeanour, and Kara Vincennes, a youngling found on Coruscant, with bright golden hair, calm and centred, almost _too_ serene.

Castorabusallio – everyone called him Castor – was always there when Harry needed him. Simple childlike friendship perhaps but there nonetheless.

Kara was a calming influence on the two, always serene despite being so young.

Those two were the only ones he had taught the extra things he knew. He trusted them with the knowledge more than any others, feeling in the Force that he and they were linked by destiny, and they responded by being there for him those few times when he needed a friend who wasn't Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan. And besides which, the sparring sessions with them were always fun. One such session had ended with the three of them laughing their heads off as Castor had accidentally ripped his trousers in an unfortunate place.

"I've been needing new ones," he said, embarrassed.

"Well, now's your chance to get some," Kara laughed.

"You probably shouldn't have tried that Ataru manoeuvre," Harry said sagely.

"And who taught me that?" Castor replied, indignant. "If you didn't think my trousers were up to it..."

"I thought _you_ were up to it," Harry replied. "Never crossed my mind to think about your trousers."

It was such simple memories that made Harry's life as a Jedi youngling bliss. He was still a long way off from being a full Jedi, he knew, but he was patient if he was anything. He could wait as long as he had to, and he was happy to wait.

Patience was a virtue, especially among the Jedi.

* * *

><p>It was a full ten years after he had left his home universe when Qui-Gon came into his youngling quarters. Harry was meditating, centring himself in the Force, when the older man came in. Unusually, the Jedi Master was alone. After a moment finishing up his meditating, Harry stood up and bowed to his unofficial mentor.<p>

"Master Qui-Gon," he said, smiling.

"Harry," the older Jedi said, smiling. "How are you?"

"I do my best, Master," Harry replied softly, smiling. "What can I do for you?"

Qui-Gon smiled at the boy's eager-to-please attitude. Ah, soon the boy would have to learn to be cynical, but for now, youthful innocence. "The Council wish to see you," he informed the young Jedi. "I think they have a mission – of sorts – for you."

"A mission?" asked Harry, his surprise in his tone and on his face. "What sort of mission?"

"I do not know," answered Qui-Gon truthfully. He didn't know – although he suspected many things. "The Council will explain everything, I'm sure. Go on now."

Harry was puzzled, but he trusted the Council – and more importantly Qui-Gon – implicitly, so he bowed and went at once to the Council chamber. Qui-Gon stared after him, sad that he would probably never see the boy again. Then he sighed and let the attachment flow from him. He had to go find Obi-Wan – they had their own mission to attend to, one that they could not risk failing.

Harry walked along the corridors of the Jedi Temple, before coming to a halt outside the Council Chamber. He composed himself slightly – it was always nerve wracking, facing the twelve best Jedi in the Order – but he had done nothing to warrant being nervous, so he let it flow from his mind.

"Harry Potter," came the voice of Mace Windu as Harry entered the Council chamber. The Korun Master, as well as Yoda, Oppo Rancisis, Depa Billaba and the rest of the Council, were all waiting for him.

"Masters," said Harry, bowing respectfully as soon as he had taken his place in the centre of the chamber.

"You know, presumably, that you come from a parallel universe?" asked Mace, without further preamble. Harry did know this. Unlike many younger Jedi, he had been told everything about his origins, at Yoda's request. He needed to know, apparently - at least Yoda said he did, though he didn't see how it had much bearing on his life here.

"Yes Master," he replied.

"Then you know of the school Hogwarts?" continued Mace.

"Yes, Master," Harry confirmed with a nod. "An institution where the people of that world with Force-sensitivity learn a form of control and manipulation over the Force they call 'magic'."

"Good," said Mace, smiling and nodding. "You'll be going there. You will return to your universe of origin, and learn the local method of manipulating the Force – their magic'."

To say that Harry was stunned by this proclamation would have been an understatement. This was not quite what he had been expecting when Qui-Gon said "a mission". It sounded more like he was being dismissed from the Order, but that could not be right.

"Master's forgive me," he said, trying his best to hide his confusion and slight worry with deference, "but I have not completed my Jedi training yet. I've not even been assigned as a Padawan learner to a master. Surely I must finish all of that first."

Mace Windu smiled at him, as if he had been expecting this line of questioning. "You will not be going into your universe alone," he told the young Padawan softly. "Jedi Knight Jacen Araphis will accompany you, and take you on as his Padawan learner."

Harry was silent for a long moment. Not only were the Council sending him off to the universe of his own birth – something he had always been curious about – but they were doing so – _and_ giving him a Jedi Master? His fears of being dismissed from the Order vanished immediately. This was… a joy. An unexpected one, but Harry knew better than to question the Will of the Force.

"Understand, Potter," Mace continued slowly, his voice taking on a tone of new seriousness, "that in returning to your own universe, there are many dangers: many servants of evil who will gladly slay you if they can. Araphis can protect you from some of these, but not all of them."

Yoda, who until this point had been silent, spoke, softly and with gravity. "This choice, yours must be."

Harry considered the danger. From what he knew, a Dark Lord had tried to kill him. From what he knew, that Dark Lord might still be alive – that was indeed a risk. But he was Jedi – risk was an inherent part of the job. The lifestyle. If he wasn't prepared to face it he might as well give up now.

"I will go, Masters," he said at last, bowing.

"Been to your home universe before, Araphis has," Yoda said softly. "Guide you to purchase your necessary equipment, he will. Listen to your Master."

Harry nodded slowly.

"Go," said Yoda after a moment. "Prepare for your journey."

Harry bowed, and left the council chamber. The Masters looked between each other. Rare was the Jedi with such a destiny as Harry Potter's – the destiny to battle and slay a Dark Lord. It was a destiny fraught with many perils.

* * *

><p>He had decided against saying goodbye to his friends – even Castor and Kara. It would only heighten the emotion that he was feeling, and he didn't want to disappoint Master Qui-Gon by breaking the code and feeling attachment to the two. But then, to his surprise, waiting for him by the entrance to the portal room was Castor and Kara. Both looked solemnly at him, clearly aware that he was leaving them. Quite <em>how<em> there were aware was not something Harry could have answered, but he guessed that Yoda had thought it better that they say goodbye.

"You're going then," Castor said shortly.

"Yes," Harry replied, equally shortly. Neither of them wanted to be upset about this.

"We'll miss you," Kara said after a long pause. "Be sure to visit, if you can."

"Same to you," Harry said. Then he blinked back tears, and the three of them hugged, expressing in deed what they could not in words, before Harry headed off, meeting up with his Jedi Master. For a long moment, his two friends watched the closed door silently.

"We are so going with him," Castor said.

"Definitely," Kara smiled, and they ran off to find Yoda.

* * *

><p>At the portal, Araphis waited. He was tall, lanky, and he had close cropped brown hair, a big nose and bigger ears. His robes were the same as any traditional Jedi robe – cream and brown – and his lightsaber hung on his belt. He nodded to Harry as he came towards him.<p>

"Harry Potter," he said in greeting. "It's good to see you."

"And you, Master Araphis," Harry replied, bowing. "It is an honour to serve as your Padawan."

"And it is a great honour to be your Master," Araphis smiled, returning the bow.

The two of them stood still for a moment, both mildly uncomfortable with the silence that had descended between them – were all new Master/Padawan bonds like this, Harry wondered? Did these two people, the man and the boy, really have so little in common that they couldn't even speak to one another?

"It's time to go, Harry," said Araphis after a moment. Harry knew he could sense the awkwardness of the situation. "We need to hurry, the portal will have to close in a moment."

The two of them stepped up to the portal, a white disk in space that could only be opened every so often, at great cost to the Jedi masters, whose concentration in the Force was all that kept it open. They would have to rest for a long time after this, for keeping the portal stable enough to allow transport was difficult even for skilled masters.

The two Jedi stepped through...


	3. Chapter 3

3

Harry found himself in a crowded place, his new Master still by his side. A street, but unlike any Coruscanti street Harry could think of. It was apparently made of bricks and mortar, but the buildings were somewhat crooked and looked as if the only thing holding them up was pure… well, not luck. The Force maybe. But of course, here, Force users called it "magic" and had far more varied uses for it than the Jedi did.

"Come," whispered Araphis to his new Padawan, before setting off down the streets.

Harry followed him as the Jedi Master led Harry to several shops, where he purchased – using gold coins rather than any Republic money – various books and robes for Harry's usage, consulting all the while a small piece of parchment. Harry looked at it quizzically, and Araphis showed him a letter with "Mr Harry Potter, Youngling Room 122A, The Jedi Temple, Coruscant, Galactic Core, Galaxy Far, Far away" written at the top.

"How could they know so much?" Harry asked, confused.

Araphis grinned at that question. "Magic," he said, smiling as if at some private joke. "You will find that much you thought was impossible is possible here."

"They really do have many uses for the Force," Harry said in wonder. It had never occurred to him just how many things were possible with the correct usage of the Force.

"Yes, but I would be wary of it," Araphis said, dropping the grin. "It makes them soft, relying too much on their tricks with the Force and too little on their own wits, bodies and minds. As a Jedi, your duty is to be in peak physical and mental condition at all times."

"I will remember, Master," Harry said obligingly. It was a good lesson – as Qui-Gon had often said, some Jedi – Consulars especially – occasionally used the Force too much and their brains too little Harry had often wondered whether the Jedi as a whole had become too reliant on the Force.

After having led Harry through many shops, purchasing a wide variety of items, the Jedi finally led Harry to a dusty looking shop with the legend "Ollivanders Wands" above the entranceway.

"Wand?" Harry asked, unsure of the term.

"The people here are unable for the most part to truly focus their Force sensitivity. They can access it but it's sporadic," Araphis explained to the boy. He took out his lightsaber handle to illustrate what he meant. "They invented a focusing method- rather like the focusing crystal of a lightsaber. They call them wands. These wands, like each crystal, are unique to the wizard that chooses them. These wands focus the Force within these wizards and allow them to use their power to the accomplishment of spells." Araphis put his lightsaber away, and nodded at Ollivanders with a small smile. "Knowing the owner of this establishment, this shop _will_ have a wand ready for you. Go on in."

Araphis gave Harry the money, and the young Jedi went into the small shop, thought not without some trepidation. The owner of the shop – an old man with grey, wispy hair and piercing eyes – looked over at him at once.

"Ah, Mr Potter," he said with a smile that seemed friendly, but cold at the same time. "Yes, I wondered when we'd be seeing you."

Harry said nothing as the man came towards him, but sensed no malice in the man – he still stayed on guard.

"I am Mr Ollivander," the man continued, that same friendly smile upon his face, "the owner of this shop."

"Good day to you sir," Harry said softly, unsure quite how to proceed.

"It is indeed a good day, Mr Potter," Ollivander said. "And we shall now have to find you a wand…"

Harry closed his eyes as Mr ollivander began searching through rows of boxes. Araphis had used the example of the crystals of Ilum, and using that as his guide, Harry closed his eyes, feeling through the Force for... well, he didn't exactly know what. A moment later, he opened his eyes, as Ollivander began rooting through wands, and held out his hand. A box deep within the shop stirred, catching Ollivander's attention. Harry quickly dropped his hand, catching himself – he did not wish to arouse suspicion.

"Interesting," Ollivander said, stepping down, walking over, and grabbing the box. "11 inches long, made of holly, with a phoenix feather at its core. Very interesting."

"Is that unusual?" Harry asked, unsure why the man was so fascinated by his wand and uncertain whether he actually wanted to know.

"This wand is very unusual," Ollivander said in reply, giving Harry a look that shook the young Jedi to his core. "The phoenix that donated the feather for this wand donated only one other feather. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand," Ollivander continued, eyes floating up to the scar upon Harry's forehead, where there still rested a lightning bolt scar, "when its brother gave you that."

Harry blinked. He bowed to Ollivander, paid the man, and walked out of the shop.

* * *

><p>When Harry stepped out of the little shop, he felt more than a little shaken.<p>

"Harry?" Araphis, who had been waiting patiently, asked him, looking troubled. "What's wrong?"

"Master…" Harry said, unsure where to being.

"Take your time Harry," the older man instructed him. Harry blinked again, breathed, gulped, and then spoke.

"The wand I wield is apparently paired with that of the Dark Lord who gave me this…" the young Padawan pointed to his scar, his face more than a little perturbed.

Araphis looked at the scar, a lingering symbol of the evils of Voldemort, and then he sighed softly.

"You and he are connected," he said, quietly, so that none could hear what the two discussed (it was after all sensitive information). "You can sense it, through the Force, can't you? A darkness?"

Harry blinked, and closed his eyes. Yes, there was something through the Force, but he didn't like the implications of what he was sensing. There was a sensation of pain, but it was fleeting

"I am connected to a Dark Lord?" he asked. Araphis nodded slightly, but smiled.

"It does not matter yet, Harry," he said. "You came here to learn how to control powers that otherwise you could not learn at all. Do not concern yourself with this connection."

"In other words, be mindful of the Living Force," Harry said, with a small smirk. Araphis rolled his eyes.

"I can tell you've met Qui-Gon," he said, half amused and half exasperated. "Come on then."

Together, the two of them left, seeking accommodation for the next couple of days. Harry felt a little more comfortable around the man now.

* * *

><p>In those several days, Harry and Araphis made it their business to train, get to know one another, and develop the necessary bond. It was difficult for Harry (since he had always had a sneaking suspicion either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan would be his Master) but he was getting used to Araphis over time. It would work out, he was sure. Araphis was more a user of the Unifying Force than the Living Force, and where Qui-Gon used Ataru and Obi-Wan experimented with Soresu, both feeling that knowledge of a specific Form was important, Araphis trained with Niman, the moderation form, and felt that there was other knowledge besides that of the lightsaber and the Force. Where Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were both Guardians, Araphis was a Sentinel, with a wide variety of tools and survival methods at his disposal.<p>

Harry found his new master to be something of a revelation – where he expected one thing, he would find another. For example, in the first few bouts of sparring the two shared, the younger Jedi was unsure what to expect from his master's lightsaber form, having never studied Niman in his life, so he had begun with a Soresu stance, right arm held back with the lightsaber held parallel to its path, left arm extended parallel to the sabre with two fingers pointed out in challenge, that Obi-Wan had taught him, reasoning that taking the defensive was the best early bet.

His new master had engaged him with Djem So strikes that, while powerful, were almost lazily executed, as though the Jedi master had never bothered to learn the full sequence, merely the first few steps. Harry had found it almost too easy to block every strike as they came, thick and fast. When he countered, he actually succeeded in driving his new master back a step.

He frowned slightly. A Jedi knight should not be so easy to defeat in battle regardless of what form he used. However, Araphis did not look disappointed in Harry. Rather, he smiled.

"An excellent execution of Soresu there," he said with a smile. "But it is not your only form, or so I have heard." The Jedi Knight extended his blade arm forward, pointing at harry, while keeping his rear and back, two fingers pointed at Harry in challenge again – an alternate Soresu stance. "Attack me."

Harry frowned, spun his blade once, and took the traditional Ataru guard that Qui-Gon had drilled into him, before charging. He began with a series of strikes from Shii-Cho, to lower his new master's expectations, and then suddenly engaged in a series of fast paced Ataru strikes. However, every strike was blocked calmly, Araphis picking them off as though they were blaster bolts. His defensive position was perfect in every way, so that no strike Harry threw had any hope of hitting him. Eventually, Harry slowed, trying to get back into a defensive posture, but Araphis disarmed with a quick riposte, and then deactivated his lightsaber.

"Rule one," the Jedi Knight said with a soft smile. "Never assume anything. I lulled you into a false sense of security by attacking first, my weakest form, which allowed you to defend against it, but then you took the offensive and I demonstrated my _strongest_ form."

"So I was overconfident," Harry replied. "I understand now."

"I think you do," Araphis said with a smile. He raised his sabre and ignited it. "Again."

* * *

><p>It was several days later that Jacen Araphis took Harry to… what was it called? "Kings Cross train station?" There, Harry would be taken to a place called Platform 9&amp;34. If there could be three quarters of a platform – certainly, as Harry looked around the "train station" he could see no sign of a "9&3/4" anywhere. He looked up at his master, confused. Araphis however, seemed to know what he was doing. He took Harry to a barrier between platform nine and platform ten, and told him to look at it carefully.

"It's a wall," Harry said slowly, studying it carefully.

"It looks like a wall," Araphis agreed with his young Padawan, "but it is not, apprentice. Close your eyes; they can deceive you sometime. Don't trust them implicitly."

"You're saying I should always doubt my surroundings?" Harry asked, looking at his master doubtfully.

"I'm saying, trust the Force first, not your lesser senses," Araphis countered, sharply, but inside he was smiling – this boy was quick and clever. A good omen. "Close your eyes, and trust the Force. Tell me what you sense."

Harry sighed, closed his eyes, and reached out with the Force. And what looked like a solid wall… suddenly wasn't. It was a moment of revelation for the young Jedi, and he smiled at it.

"It _isn't_ a wall," he said in wonder. "It's some kind of illusion."

"You're right," Araphis replied, and then he pulled the boy out of the way of a short red headed woman and what looked like five children. The youngest – a girl – smiled at Harry, and he bowed politely. The rest quickly passed through the barrier – appearing to walk straight through it.

"By the Force," Harry said in wonderment. Araphis smiled again.

"I told you, your eyes can deceive you," the Jedi Knight said. "Now, walk through the barrier."

Harry did as he was told, and he walked through the wall without a single moment's hesitation.

A great, red machine – a train? – stood before him, the legend "Hogwarts Express" emblazoned on the front of the machine. Harry gazed at it for a moment, truly awestruck, for he had never seen such a thing before despite the speeders and flying ships of his home.

"Hello!" the red headed woman said to the two cheerily, passing them by, the girl still holding her hand. She seemed to have seen her sons off.

"Greetings," Araphis said to the woman. "I am Jacen Araphis, and this is my... ward, Harry."

"Ward?" the woman repeated quizzically, looking at Harry. Her gaze flicked up to the scar on his forehead and then she smiled. "Oh, I see. Hello dear."

Harry bowed to her as politely as he had to the girl, and then he felt Araphis's hand upon his shoulder.

"I would remain to speak with you, but I need to see Harry off," the Jedi Knight said with a smile. The woman nodded in understanding and walked over to a bench, sitting down with her daughter. Araphis meanwhile walked harry over to a quieter corner of the platform.

"The Hogwarts express," Harry said softly, gazing at the train again.

"Yes," Araphis smiled. "Primitive, but it works. You must board it and go to Hogwarts. Now, listen." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and looked him in the eye, adopting a very serious expression. "You must not reveal your true nature. There are many enemies of the Jedi here, and they would gladly kill a young Jedi. If anyone asks why you wear these robes," he pointed to the robes that he and Harry both wore, "then say that you are part of a religious order. It will not be so far from the truth. Your uniform is in the case; put it on as soon as you get a free moment." He looked around almost nervously, and then continued. "If you are threatened, you must defend yourself, but outside of that, do not draw attention to yourself. I will call to you when I am ready to meet you to continue your training. Until then, Harry, may the Force be with you."

"And may the Force be with you, Master Araphis," Harry replied dutifully. Araphis smiled, and left Harry there, disappearing into the crowd. Harry meanwhile, boarded the train. The suitcase was taken by the conductor, leaving Harry with nothing but his sabre tucked into his belt, and his wand sitting next to it. Harry resolved that he would keep his sabre close to himself at all times – he did not know when he would need it.

He sat down in an empty train compartment, and immediately went into a meditative state, trying to contact the Force.

* * *

><p>Araphis walked over to where the red headed woman sat, and stood a few feet away from her.<p>

"Pheonix," he said casually. She looked up and him and stood up, walking right over to him, leaving her daughter on the bench staring at them quizzically.

"Flame," she replied softly, before looking around worriedly. "I must say, I'm not really in for all of this sneaking around. Why couldn't you have contacted Dumbledore directly?"

"Dumbledore deemed that direct contact would be too easily traced by certain individuals," Araphis replied curtly, looking at the woman with the utmost professionalism now – this was a mission to him and Jedi always took missions seriously. "Beyond that I do not know precisely his reasoning. I can only assume there are agents of darkness around."

"Hm," Molly Weasley said, uncertainty in her voice. When Dumbledore had written to her and Arthur asking them to meet with a friend of his – a friend who would have no less a person than _the_ Harry Potter with him – she had naturally been quite thrilled and a little excited to, essentially, be on a mission of espionage, although she and Arthur had both agreed that it was best to keep it from the children.

However the truth was that she was more than a little worried – for ten years there had (supposedly) been peace – if Dumbledore, however, still felt that secret passwords and agents and third party messages were still needed, then maybe that peace wasn't as secure as she would have liked it to be.

What's more, this fellow – Harry's guardian, she assumed, although they didn't seem entirely comfortable with each other, and they both wore robes that had a distinctly foreign flavour – seemed a little... odd. 'Agents of darkness' wasn't a turn of phrase one would normally have heard outside of novels about ancient witches and wizards and warlocks that she had read as a child. Nonetheless, the fact that he seemed to be taking his duties seriously cheered her up a great deal. "What should I put in the letter then?"

"You may relate to Dumbledore that I will be where he expects me to be within a week," Araphis replied softly. His expression softened from cool professionalism to a warmer, friendlier face, and he allowed a small smile. "You need not worry any further, Mrs Weasley. Your part in this is over. Content yourself that your family are safe and that you have helped ensure another's safety as well."

Molly nodded, smiling. That was something she was _definitely_ grateful for.

* * *

><p>Harry could have been sat there meditating, going through the endless mysteries of the Force, for seconds, or minutes, or perhaps even hours (he could never tell when he was in the midst of the meditation), but he was woken up eventually by a boy's voice speaking to him.<p>

"Is this compartment empty?" the voice said. Harry opened his eyes. He found himself staring at a boy who looked rather like Castor did, except that his hair was a slightly less vibrant shade of ginger. He smiled at the thought of his friend, but quickly suppressed a wave of homesickness.

"Yes," he said, politely. "Feel free to take a seat."

The boy sat heavily, and smiled his gratitude. He had a slightly wider nose than Castor. He was freckly and curious, with kindness and curiosity evident in his eyes. He held in his hands a pet rat that had obviously seen better days, although the same could have been said for the chipped wand he held in his other hand, the tatty, patched clothing and the dirty shoes. Clearly he was the bottom end of a row of hand-me-downs.

"Ron Weasley," he said, introducing himself and holding out his hand.

"Harry Potter," replied Harry, shaking Ron's hand.

Ron's face suddenly registered an expression of shock and awe in equal measure, and he looked at his hand then back at Harry in wonder.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really what?" the young Jedi asked, confused as to the sudden change in Ron's demeanour.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" asked Ron.

"Yes, I am," Harry replied evenly. "Is that a problem?"

"No!" cried Ron suddenly. "It's just its… it's an honour to meet you."

"The honour is all mine, Ron," Harry replied, smiling. "But please – don't put me on a pedestal."

Ron looked shocked at that.

"Don't put you on a pedestal? Do you know what you did?" he said, surprised at Hrry's self-deprecating words. "You survived You-Know-Who!"

"It was probably a fluke," Harry said with a shrug. Truth was, he had no idea what he had done and it didn't interest him. "Or the will of the…" he stopped himself. He had nearly said 'will of the Force,' which would have blown his cover well and truly. Ron was about to inquire as to what he was about to say when a girl walked in. She was their age, with long bushy brown hair and slightly enlarged front teeth.

"Have you seen a toad?" she asked, her voice somewhat received and snooty, although from what Harry could sense she had a good heart. "Neville's lost one."

"Nope," said Ron immediately.

"Oh," the girl said, looking slightly disappointed. "I'm Hermione Granger by the way. Have you read any of the school books? I've read them all. They're very interesting."

"Nope," said Ron again. Harry could sense a slight dislike for the girl present in Ron's mind. Harry sighed at his new friend's apparently judgemental nature (although he supposed no one was perfect) and, in an effort to help the girl, reached into the Force, seeking the animal Hermione was after. He knew what toads were; he had researched them (and thousands of other Earth Fauna and Flora during his time at the temple) so finding one wasn't too hard if he tried. There were a great many animals, but there was only one on the train anyway; they didn't seem too popular for some reason.

Within ten seconds of closing his eyes, he answered "in the baggage carriage," but when he opened his eyes the others were staring at him.

"What was that?" asked Hermione.

"What?" he replied innocently. He cursed inwardly. 'You aren't meant to use the force, stupid!' he thought to himself.

"The whole closing your eyes thing?" Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. Harry thought about telling her straight, but his new Master had told him not to and he wasn't about to begin a disobedient streak.

"I was trying to remember if I'd seen him," he lied, rather unconvincingly, "and I did, in the baggage carriage."

"We're not _allowed_ in the baggage carriage," the girl pointed out.

Harry looked at her, and then cursed himself.

"I... went in there earlier," he improvised, wildly but, at the same time, calmly, putting the weight of the Force behind it to stifle any further doubt in her mind, "to check if my stuff was alright." He looked at Ron. "I get paranoid."

The two looked unconvinced, but thankfully, the Force was with him, the girl left it at that, and she exited the carriage. Ron didn't ask about it, but Harry could tell that, despite the Force persuasion he had tried to employ, he was still curious. Harry decided to tell Ron the truth as soon as he had a chance.

"Don't know what she's complaining about, you told her where the toad was, didn't you?" Ron said after a moment. Harry smiled, and nodded. "Anyway, we're nearly there, so we'd better get dressed," Ron added.

Harry resolved that he would not slip up again. Next time he used his Force abilities he'd plan it first.

He sighed - this was going to be harder than he had first imagined.


	4. Chapter 4

4

Harry waited in the long line in the massive Great Hall of Hogwarts, drawing upon his training to bolster his patience.

He had to admit, for a culture that hadn't even invented hyperdrive yet, these people were good at building impressive structures. Hogwarts was truly beautiful - from the outside it was a highly impressive, towering structure that looked both intimidating and yet at the same time strangely inviting, and though it looked ancient, it felt vibrantly alive. The interior of the castle was a grand, almost baroque affair, full of stone pillars and torches that, although archaic even by the primitive technological standard of the people of this world, was nonetheless uniquely charming.

Especially magnificent was the Great Hall. The "magic" of this world – which felt to him, he was somewhat relieved to realise, almost exactly like the Force he had grown up with, except with a tinge of something he could only describe as an odd aftertaste, though it went far deeper than the merely physical sense of taste – seemed to pervade the architecture in this culture; the ceiling was apparently (according to Hermione Granger, who seems to be enjoying the opportunity to prove she had read "Hogwarts: A History" to her new colleagues) bewitched to appear like the sky outside.

Harry smiled softly, taking in the beauty of this place. As a Jedi he believed that taking in the beauty of the universe around him was important - a way of reaching out with the living Force. He sighed and reached out with his feeling, stretching his perception out into the wider Force around him, hoping to feel the subtle patterns flowing around him in the absolute harmony of creation.

He started as he felt something else entirely, something that distracted him from his chosen activity with a jolt.

There was someone here. Someone familiar. No, wait; two someones, both standing right behind him. He turned to look at them, gaped for a moment, looked away, closed his eyes, and looked again.

He wasn't seeing things. It really was them.

Castor and Kara, his two best friends from back at the Jedi temple, were standing behind him, smiling, dressed in full Hogwarts uniform.

Shock reeled through Harry's mind, as well as confusion. How could they be here? Why? Castor grinned at his still gaping expression, clearly knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"Surprised to see us?" he asked good-naturedly.

"I think the word 'gobsmacked' would be more accurate," replied Harry, his voice faint with surprise.

"Master Yoda sent us to keep you company," explained Kara quietly, so that no one could hear them – nobody was paying attention to their conversation anyway, too impressed as most of them were by the ceiling. "He thought having friends around you would make it easier."

"Master Yoda sent you?" repeated Harry, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. "That doesn't sound like him at all."

"We did sort of insist," added Castor, with a sly smile that made Harry want to narrow his eyes further.

"We'll talk about this later," said Harry, turning back to the front, knowing full well that 'insistent' by Castor's standards was tantamount to harassment by anyone else's. He smiled, though, as soon as they couldn't see his face.

Despite the dubiousness of their being here, it felt good to know that his friends were here. He had worried that he would be alone in keeping his secret, worried that he would be unable to speak of the Force or any other element of his life, his real life, in full with anyone save for the Master he would doubtless not see very often. But now he could talk about these things, he could share his experiences - there would be someone who understood. The thought was surprisingly heartening. He half consider scolding himself for forming an attachment to his two friends that he knew might one day cause him problems, but in the end he didn't bother. It wouldn't hurt for the moment, surely.

He turned back to the front, and studied the sorting ceremony. He saw a hat on a stool, which was being placed on a terrified looking girl's head by a stern looking woman – Professor... McGonagall. Yes, that was the stern woman's name. The hat was, quite surprisingly, able not only to talk, but to sing. Harry had no idea how this was possible, but as Master Araphis had point out – "magic". It was an interesting explanation, albeit too convenient for Harry, who was used to a harder life than this - by the standards the Jedi held themselves to, the uses of the Force the wizards had invented, while interesting and unusual, were mostly, it seemed, frivolous.

The hat seemed to be deliberating something as it sat on the poor girl's head - Harry felt a pang of pity, and realised that this must be a terrifying prospect for most people, this getting up in front of your peers to be judged. The hat continued to deliberate for a long moment, and then without warning it suddenly yelled "RAVENCLAW!" and the girl scampered off to the table that was applauding her.

Harry reasoned that the "Houses" were rather similar to the clan system. He had never been certain about that system, which seemed to encourage undue rivalry within students, but he was not one to question the will of the Force, or the Council. He heard his own name being called out, and he went to the stool, using the Force and his training to quash the flutter of irrational fear that he felt in walking up in front of the entire school.

McGonagall placed the hat on his head – it was itchy and uncomfortable and overlarge, but there were worse problems in the world than that and a Jedi did not complain in the face of mere mild discomfort.

_"Well I'm sure I'm more comfortable than those tunics you have to wear,"_ the hat said, speaking to Harry through his mind._ "Ah, hello, a Jedi! Not had one of those in for a while..."_

Harry, slightly abashed that the hat had heard his less than complementary thoughts, was surprised at the hat having heard of his Order, and was about to say so when the hat said, _"yes, I know about Jedi. The headmaster knows them. Talks about them a lot."_

The hat was looking through Harry's mind, of that the Padawan was sure. He allowed it to happen only reluctantly. _"Skill, yes," _the hat commented as it rooted through Harry's mind. _"And there's courage in spades, honour, loyalty..."_

_Are you going to list all of my attributes? _Harry thought, mildly irritated and slightly embarrassed. As a Jedi he tried to be humble, and the urge to deny that he had any of those things within him was overwhelming.

_"Yes,"_ the hat replied. _"It's my job. Anyway, I like these attributes a great deal – and you do have them, so don't deny it. I find false modesty is almost as irritating as hubris, although I suppose I should expect it from Jedi."_

Harry sighed at the hat's dismissal of Harry's modesty - Harry had never thought of himself being better than anyone. All the Jedi he knew seemed to be courageous, honourable and loyal. Why should he be any different?

_"All in all, it's an interesting combination,"_ the hat concluded thoughtfully. _"A fair bit of Slytherin potential, but your Jedi training seems to have all but suppressed the Slytherin traits. And besides, the loyalty and courage et al are all far better suited for... GRYFFINDOR!"_

Harry took the hat off once he realised that was its decision, and placed it back on the stool. To some laughter and mocking jeers from the various houses, he bowed to it respectfully. He ignored the jeers and mocking shouts. There was no reason to be disrespectful to the hat just because it was a sentient piece of clothing - the Living Force took many myriad shapes and sizes, as Qui-Gon had often said. True, Harry had never expected it to take the form of a piece of _headgear_, but oh well. Magic.

He walked over to the Gryffindor table, and waited for his friends, both old and new, to be sorted.

Hermione and Ron had ended up being in Gryffindor, which seemed to please them both, while Castor and Kara (Castor going under the alias Castor Smith, Smith apparently being a fairly common name in this part of the world - the equivalent of Antilles back home) were also sorted into Gryffindor, after a moment where the hat (Harry thought, grinning) would doubtless be saying something akin to the old proverb - "you wait all day for a transport to the upper levels, and then three come all at once."

Harry introduced them both as "friends from home", and when asked where that was, he simply said "somewhere remote". Using the Force subtly, he pushed the question of where he had spent ten years out of the minds of those who asked (Master Qui-Gon had always said, "a good mind trick saves time and trouble", which appeared to slightly bother Obi-Wan but he never mentioned it), and they accepted his somewhat lacking explanation.

He decided, after talking with Ron Weasley for a bit, that when he had to, he would definitely tell the boy about his true origins. He hated deceiving such a nice person about this, especially when the ginger boy was so incredibly open about his own life with Harry – with five wizarding brothers and one sister who would be joining them at Hogwarts next year, the pressure for the young man was immense, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Ron had felt less than fully appreciated by his family, judging from how downcast he was when speaking about their achievements compared to what was expected of him - one thing that caught Harry's attention was Ron saying "it doesn't matter what I do because they've already done it". It made Harry somewhat sad to hear his new friend think like that. One thing the young Jedi also sensed was a small amount of jealousy when Ron spoke of how famous Harry was, but he paid it no mind and hoped he could convince Ron to let go of it. Jealousy was a nasty thing, that could tear friendships apart. The Jedi avoided such things with good reason.

Kara was busy speaking with Hermione Granger – despite the arrogance that Harry had sensed from the girl regarding her own knowledge and ability, Kara seemed to find her a good enough person to talk to (Kara never spoke to someone if they didn't have a good heart) so he assumed she had seen something in the girl he had yet to see. Harry had to admit, his own initial opinion was less than favourable, but he resolved to reevaluate it. Hermione certainly wasn't a bad person. She was good-hearted, with a desire to prove her intellect that was laudable. She was simply very vocal about it.

Looking around the table, he smiled. Somehow - be it innate instincts or Force driven insight - he felt at home here, as though this place was right for him.

It felt good.

* * *

><p>It was only when the first years were escorted to the Gryffindor common room, sometime after the feast had finished, that Harry decided that it would be a good idea to talk to his friends more thoroughly about their presence. After all, interrogating them while they were waiting to be sorted would have been impractical, and talking to them on the table was difficult in and of itself without the fact that they had to be secretive.<p>

"So, Master Yoda decided to send you here?" he said, and they nodded, confirming his story. "With Masters?" he asked.

"Well, no," Castor said sheepishly. "There wasn't time. There was just time enough to organise us being here with the headmaster – I think Yoda knows him – and then we got sent."

"Why are you here then?" Harry asked, looking from one to the other. "You can't have given up training just for me -please tell me you didn't," he added slightly worriedly - that would be too heavy a sacrifice to ask of his friends.

"Well, no," Kara said, and Harry sighed in relief. The blonde girl shared an awkward glance with Castor. "Your Master is going to have to train us along with you," she continued.

Harry blinked, and frowned slightly at the two of them.

"That breaks all the rules," he said softly. The rules – the Code – were there for a reason, and shouldn't be flouted in this manner, even with the approval of Grand Master Yoda.

"Well, Yoda did say something about sending Master Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan here to assist," Castor said, slightly embarrassed by his friend's accusing stares. "Once they've completed their current mission."

Harry was gobsmacked, for the second time that day. And then slowly he smiled.

"That," he said, "is some of the best news I've heard all week," he said. "What's their current mission?"

"Something to do with the Trade Federation," Kara said softly, trying to recall the latest rumours.

"Taxation of trade routes, all that blah," Castor nodded in agreement. "I don't get most of it."

Harry nodded. He felt a bit of worry or his mentors but smiled at the same time. If that was all that Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had to deal with, they'd surely be done in no time. The Trade Federation would probably be a massive pushover for them. And then they'd be here as soon as they were done.

He was definitely having good feelings about this place.

That night, Harry slept soundly, happy that his friends were here and happier that soon his mentor would be too. Any lingering homesickness and nervousness he felt was mollified by judicious use of the Force. He remembered some of Master Qui-Gon's words of advice in this instance.

_"The Force sustains life. By reaching into it, you can rest more fully, and sleep more soundly, allowing your fears and worries to melt away. The thing about the Force is that when one makes himself part of it, one can manage to achieve anything."_

Since that day, Harry had been able to block the bad dreams that had sometimes haunted him, dreams of green light and cold laughter, and for this he was eternally glad. He didn't like them at all; they stank to high heaven of the Dark Side. He didn't like them, and was pleased that he was free of them.

For the moment.

* * *

><p>Speaking of the Dark Side, far away and in another universe, a man by the name of Sidious, short, but nonetheless imposing, a dark shadow incarnate, spoke to two Dark Acolytes; fools, but worthy ones in their own, small way.<p>

Their names were Vinoc and Karoc: they were twins, strong in the Force but weak of the mind, young (barely fifteen) but eager to prove themselves to their dark Master. They were both incredibly pale, with dark eyes and lean, wiry bodies. They paid rapt attention to Sidious, for as always, the mission he gave them was of the utmost importance to his designs.

"You will go," Sidious said to them, slowly, his voice a sibilant whisper that nonetheless held a hidden power that demanded the attention of those who heard it. "Your orders are to kill the Jedi Master, and bring the young ones to me. They will make excellent servants in the future."

Vinoc and Karoc bowed to Lord Sidious, and then with a wave of the Force, the Dark Lord of the Sith opened the portal and sent them to do his bidding. The two quickly dashed into the portal and vanished. Beneath his hood, the Dark Lord of the Sith smiled. It was all going so well for him – Naboo was in crisis, a crisis that would soon see one Senator Palpatine of Naboo made Chancellor of the Galactic Senate and the Republic. This would be an excellent turn of events all round in Sidious' estimation.

The spies he had within the Jedi Temple informing him of several Jedi younglings and one Jedi Knight being sent to a parallel universe – something he had been quite surprised by – was something he considered a wonderful opportunity. The Knight would be useless to him except as fodder for the acolytes to practice on, but the younglings... such young minds were ripe for the plucking, and would make excellent servants in the future New Order that Sidious was planning to create.

He was brought out of the pleasant thoughts of his imminent victory over the Jedi by a beeping – a communication from that spineless worm Nute Gunray - a Neimodian Viceroy of the Trade Federation – coming through his main communicator. He sighed, vaguely considering how fun snapping the worm's spine would be, and then put him through.

"What is it?" he said sternly when Gunray and some of his lackeys appeared on the holoprojector… 


	5. Chapter 5

5

The lessons at Hogwarts School weren't exactly easy, but patience and hard work meant that Harry did well most of the time, even if there was something of a mental block at first. He was forced during the early weeks to remember one of Yoda's first teachings: to unlearn what one had learned. Just because something seemed impossible did not mean it was. Harry had arrogantly assumed that the Force training he had already undertaken was the sum total of all he could learn. He was quickly disabused of that notion after the lesson on transfiguring a match into a pin, something that it took a great deal of time to perfect. Nonetheless, he persevered. He was Jedi – most lessons he had taken at the Temple had been far more intellectually challenging than this, even if these lessons sometimes challenged his preconceptions.

Potions, to Harry's surprise, was something of a bad subject for the young Jedi, not because he was particularly bad at it (although he was hardly gifted), but simply because the teacher seemed to hate Harry with a vengeance.

Professor Severus Snape was tall, with long, slightly greasy hair (must have been from working with liquids and such all day, Harry reasoned – others mocked Snape for it, but Harry saw no reason to when it was most likely a by-product of his job) and a taste in black robes which Harry had to admit was a little unnerving.

The first lesson Harry took with him, he had decided to jump Harry with three questions that the young man had fortunately known the answer to. This only seemed to infuriate Snape, who from then on made it his business to test Harry's knowledge of Potions at every opportunity, making comments (always negative) about his work and always marking him down whenever he could justify it. This was not a good environment to be working in, to be sure, but then, Harry was a Jedi Padawan and knew that his future would have far more dangerous and interesting things in it.

He would take the nastiness, the snide remarks, the unfair point-taking and marking down, and simply ignore it and continue his work. He would take the negative emotions that were generated by the man's unfairness and expel them. This was what he had been taught to do by his masters and just because he was – and his success at doing so was fair, if not outstanding given what he had to put up with.

For Castor and Kara, learning to use magic was an interesting experience. It was not too difficult (they made roughly the progress that Harry made) but at times the culture shock was very obvious; in potions, Castor had once memorably asked Harry softly, "why make healing potions when they could just buy a medical droid and save themselves the trouble?" It had been Kara who had pointed out, gently, that droids didn't exist here. Then all three of them, rated amusingly, had been forced to be evasive to Ron and Hermione about precisely what a droid was anyway.

Nonetheless, the three of them were acclimatising well. Furthermore, Harry and Ron were continuing to build on their initial good start, and were becoming good, fast friends. Ron was naturally competent at his work, if a little lacklustre in his studying. One thing that Harry noticed was that he seemed to have a feeling that his deeds did not matter – the pressure he felt he translated into a feeling that nothing he did made any difference because, as he had put it the night the two had met, "they've all done it before" (referring to his brothers). Harry resolved, at some point, to speak with him about this; but not just now.

Hermione Granger was also something of a friend of theirs, albeit one that Castor to a degree and Ron especially found annoying. Ron disliked her because of her consistently knowing the answer to every question put to them. Castor found her arrogant, believing that her knowledge was making her feel superior, and that this was not a good thing at all. Harry for his part remained cautiously neutral about the entire thing, feeling that he had no reason to dislike her just because she was smart, and – as Kara reasoned – she would grow out of her obsessive "know-it-all" phase (as Ron put it) in time. He also found some irony in Castor's presumptions, but decided against pointing read out to his friend.

The three Jedi younglings – well, two younglings and one Padawan – were something of a stir though. When not in uniform they tended to wear Jedi robes (Harry giving the excuse that Araphis had taught him, the others following his lead) and the three of them practiced, wherever possible, their sabre skills (Harry had to power his own sabre right down for Castor and Kara to be able to fight him with their training sabres), as far away from prying eyes as they could.

Furthermore, Harry would occasionally go as close to the edge of the Forest as he could, where, starting about a month into his education, Jacen Araphis had taken up residence.

"Doesn't the forest bother you, Master?" Harry asked Araphis one day, after a round of discussing the Living Force in all the plant and animal life surrounding them near the forest. "I heard there were some monsters in there."

"Not really," the Jedi Knight replied, smiling down at his young apprentice. "I once spent a week on Kashyyyk learning survival methods. It was… invigorating."

Harry smirked at that – Kashyyyk, the home planet of the Wookiees, was known for some dangerous wildlife. "Invigorating" was probably putting it mildly. Harry would have asked for more information about this time spent on Kashyyk, but Araphis ended that particular session at that point and Harry was forced to return to his dormitory. Nonetheless, he felt the entire time with Araphis was spent well.

The older Jedi appeared to not know that Castor and Kara were here, never once mentioning it, and rather than tell him, Harry endeavoured to teach Castor and Kara what he knew himself. The three of them were on level pegging with what they each knew, so it was less like teaching and more like peer discussion, but the two of them seemed to get the gist of what Harry was trying to tell them.

However, Harry wondered precisely what he was going to do once his and Master Araphis' training together really kicked off. He wouldn't be able to teach his friends. What then would he do?

* * *

><p>"Albus!"<p>

Dumbledore had been writing down some of his latest plans for a very special project he was endeavouring to undertake at Hogwarts when Minerva McGonagall entered the room, looking as flustered and angry as the day Harry had gone to the Jedi.

Immediately sensing something amiss, Dumbledore looked straight at her, their eyes meeting, and then the old professor sighed softly.

"Something to do with Harry?" he asked wearily.

The boy worried the Transfiguration Professor more than she would dare to admit, Dumbledore knew. He had told her precious little of the boy's background from that night he had disappeared onwards, and he knew when she arrived in his office one afternoon that she was now determined to get to the truth of the matter. The look on her face was one he had come to label "death glare 5" – strong enough to cow most sixth years and a few seventh years from any position they thought they held.

"Albus, he just seems... strange," Minerva McGonagall said to him, speaking quietly, as if not wanting anyone else to hear. So it was about Harry. "He doesn't talk in class, he always turns up on time..."

Albus Dumbledore smiled, and was about to point out the obvious to the transfiguration professor when McGonagall continued speaking.

"Don't get me wrong, Albus," she said hastily. "I don't mind that he's so polite and calm and all the rest, but for a boy his age, don't you think it's just a tad unnatural?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily, knowing full well that this day would have come sooner or later. He had not wanted to reveal this information but, it seemed, something had… _Forced..._ his hand. He smiled. The contact he was keeping with Master Yoda was extremely helpful, and between them the two of them were working on a plan that should – theoretically – make the situation with the three young Jedi more bearable for both them and everyone else.

"I know why Harry is like this," he said softly, "and I will endeavour to explain it to you as best I can." He paused for a moment. Suddenly he had no idea where to begin. And then, with a flash of inspiration, he smiled. "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away..."

* * *

><p>It was a cool Autumn evening about a month and a half into their time at Hogwarts when Harry, Castor and Kara stood outside the castle, in the grounds. It was the first half term break, and they were dressed in their Jedi shirts, obis, trousers and boots, ready to truly test out their skills for the first time since they had begun school.<p>

"Right," said Castor, whose idea this particular test was, "the purpose of this game is to get as fast as possible to the edge of the forest, then to get to the dock, then back up to the stadium. You can take any route you want, as long as _no one sees you doing Jedi stuff."_

Harry and Kara nodded in understanding. Both of them were excited by what they were about to do. Castor nodded at them both.

"Good," he said, a grin creeping onto his face. "Now then," he added, and the two tensed. "On your marks," all three stood ready.

"Get ready..." each of them took a last moment to contact the Force, to strengthen their limbs and re-energise themselves. And then Castor yelled out "GO!"

They were off.

Castor sprinted ahead of the other two young Jedi, his longer legs pounding the dirt, and he reached the edge of the forest quicker than the others, taking a moment to get his energy back before he set off again. Harry got there a few moments after he did, the Padawan panting slightly from exertion, while Kara was the third to reach the edge, seemingly unruffled as if she'd just taken a mild stroll.

Next was the dock. Now Kara used the Force to propel herself there over the ramparts, jumping farther and faster than the other two could manage using their legs alone. Harry used the Force to make his legs go faster in an effort to catch up, and Castor contented himself with just running, trusting himself rather than the Force, to win through.

That was, however, a mistake on his part, as Kara was already on her way to the stadium when Harry and Castor reached the dock, and she won the race by a good minute. Harry came second, running as fast as he could, and Castor came up last, cursing when he got there. While Harry and Castor were out of breath, she was breathing quite normally, leaning against a wall and smiling innocently, as the other two mock glared at her.

"Again?" she asked.

Castor groaned. Harry put his head in his hands. And then, each of them laughing at what had indeed been a fun race, they walked off back to their common room.

* * *

><p>The three Jedi younglings walked off, joking with each other, laughing - happy.<p>

Happy? Disgusting.

The twins who spied on them had to hold back the urge to either kill something or puke at the emotions they sensed from the children. How dare they be happy, these Jedi. They were absolutely sickening creatures, especially the younger ones, as they were so nauseatingly... good. It was almost unbearable.

"I think, my brother, that we should kill them now," said the younger one (by four minutes). His name was Vinoc, and he was a Dark Acolyte of the Lord of the Sith, Darth Sidious, as was his brother, Karoc. Both were young, but both had proven time and again that their youth did not stop them from being among the most skilled of the Dark Assassins that Lord Sidious had at his disposal.

"I think, my brother," Karoc replied with a silent snarl, "that your patience seems to be wearing thin, and your lack thereof wears my patience thin." Vinoc snarled back, but then grinned – the two were always playing mock dominance games, which Karoc usually won (barely) but they remained allies together. "We will wait, my brother, as we were instructed to by Lord Sidious."

The younger one scowled at his older sibling. They had been trained in the Force, but they both knew they were little more than pawns for their Lord. But they were pawns with a plan of their own. Their orders may have been to capture these younglings – but they intended, not to capture, but to kill them and the Jedi Knight with them. That way they would not make themselves vulnerable to being replaced and, when Darth Maul died, they both hoped to be taken as the Dark Lord's apprentice.

"Do not worry, brother," said Karoc with a smile. "We will destroy the young Jedi soon enough, but we must wait for the right opportunity." Vinoc nodded, and together they slinked off into the shadows, awaiting their time.

* * *

><p>The Jedi Council chamber was empty save for the two Jedi, Master Yoda and Mace Windu. The two of them had spent long hours discussing Harry Potter and his role in the events on his world.<p>

"Are you sure it was a good idea sending them?" asked Mace, referring to Castor and Kara. He had been surprised when Yoda acquiesced to their request to leave the Temple to join Harry. Yoda was silent for a moment, leaning forward onto his gimer stick. Mace waited, knowing that Yoda would deliver an answer eventually.

"No," admitted Yoda at last, with a grimace, "but insisted they did, and peace and quiet is one thing that enjoy I do. Besides, good it will be for Harry to have Jedi his own age with which to converse."

"You're kidding," muttered Mace under his breath. Sometimes, Yoda was impossible to understand, even for Mace, who had worked with him for years, been trained by him. "You're telling me that because they threatened your peace and quiet, you decided to send them all off to another universe?"

"Quite inventive, youngling Voraainsar's pranks are," Yoda said, smirking as he did so – pranks were among his favourite things. "Devices he built that, when placed, would make shrill noises once every hour – disturb a Jedi's rest they might."

"Could you not have destroyed the devices?" Mace asked, with a raised eyebrow at the thought of Yoda being blackmailed.

"The devices, many there were," Yoda replied, almost defensively, leaning on his gimer stick and looking up at Mace with a slight smile. "And many he built. To find them all, laborious it would have been. Sent him I did, and the deactivation signal he sent."

"You gave in to a youngling's threat - a harmless prank," Mace said blankly. Yoda smiled at him, and winked.

"In truth, wanted to send them I did," he said, and Mace relaxed slightly, although he was still less than impressed. "In the Force, sensed I did the challenges Harry Potter may face. Need his friends, he will."

"The danger is that Araphis will not be able to control them all, or keep them all on the right path in the years that are to come," Mace pointed out. He was all too aware of such dangers, since he made it his business to police the code where others might not do so quite so heavily.

"A danger it is," Yoda agreed. "Araphis, a good teacher is, however," he added, in a tone that brooked no argument with him on the matter. "Trust him we must."

"True," said Mace with a sigh. "I know Jacen only vaguely. He's a good Jedi, but he's not powerful enough to protect them all from the worst dangers there are."

"In the Force, we must have faith," Yoda nodded sagely, almost too po-faced to be completely serious. Suspicious, Mace nodded in agreement anyway. He had to trust Yoda knew what he was doing, even if he suspected it wasn't strictly code-compliant.

"Any news is there, of Master Jinn's mission?" Yoda asked, breaking Mace's line of thought.

"None. He and Kenobi have not contacted us at all," replied Mace grimly. This in and of itself was not unusual for the two, but this mission carried a bit of sensitivity and the Council – and Mace – would have preferred it had Qui-Gon bothered to contact them once in a while. "What do you think has happened?"

"Know, I do not. Have faith we must," said Yoda dourly, but he quickly rallied, and added with certainty, "but know Qui-Gon I do. Fail, he and his Padawan will not."

And silently, the little green Master added, 'fail, they _must_ not'. He sensed much rode on the two succeeding in their mission. He did not yet realise how right he was. 


	6. Chapter 6

6

Jacen Araphis sat down in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, his eyes closed as he reached out with his senses into the Force, the state of meditation he was in allowing him to perceive the world around him in a few beings were blessed to experience. Around the Jedi Knights swirled the Living Force, the thousand natural patterns of existence becoming one whole, rich tapestry that demanded the attention of the Jedi Knight.

He frowned. A new thread had entered the tapestry, something dark and grim and foreboding that seemed to disrupt the swirl around it until there was a gap in the Force around it. The darkness seemed to be seeking something, and judging from the increasingly nauseating sense that Araphis could feel coming from the thing, its intent was nothing short of butchery.

The Jedi Knight opened his eyes, his hand going to the lightsaber at his belt, which he held firmly as he strode through the forest. Though this was a strange world his duty was clear - he was Jedi and it was his task to battle the darkness, wherever it was and whatever its shape. He put his hood up and smiled - it was good to be doing the work of a Jedi again.

* * *

><p>It was a time of year that the people of Earth named Halloween - this was apparently a time of celebration for the people of this planet. To be honest, Harry didn't quite get the idea of celebrating a day which seemed - if what he had heard was true - to revolve around being scared out of one's wits and eating large amounts of unhealthy food - but he was determined to join in with the festivities anyway. This planet, for all that Harry had been raised on Coruscant, was his home, and this was his home universe, and he was here to learn about it, which involved being part of the cultural events.<p>

Despite his decision fairly early on in their friendship to do so, Harry had yet to tell Ron about the existence of the Jedi yet after all, despite the fact that he felt it would help their friendship to be that open. This was partially due to the fact that he simply lacked the time to do so - there was never a moment where he could sit down and discuss anything with anyone.

The decision not to tell Ron was also, however, partially due to an incident earlier on that same day. Ron had been insulting Hermione Granger openly while talking to some of his friends, including Harry and Castor – the girl had apparently done something objectionable in Charms class, most likely (knowing her) correcting Ron on an error. She had, unfortunately, overheard some of his more caustic remarks (one of which involved calling her a "nightmare") but he had been unapologetic about it despite her being so obviously upset by his comments.

"That was unnecessary," Harry had said to him at the time, a frown upon his normally serene face.

"Yeah well," said Ron in his own defence, despite both looking and feeling slightly ashamed of himself, "she's a stuck up little bossy boots. She must have noticed she's got no friends."

Harry had decided to politely ignore Ron for a couple of days, both because that was a cruel thing to say and because it was patently untrue. Harry had no objection to Hermione Granger, and Kara was a real friend to her.

He wouldn't stop being Ron's friend - that was a step too far and Ron would grow out of his attitude problem or fail in life - but his comparative silence was enough to let the red-head know that Harry was annoyed. Hermione was a nice person, with a good heart, and she valued knowledge. These were traits almost worthy of a Jedi Knight.

Even now, Hermione was still in the girl's bathroom crying, apparently. Kara and Castor had both gone up to try and talk her into coming down to the feast.

"Look," Ron said, feeling guilty for his actions, "I'm sorry about Hermione alright? But she is insufferable, you've got to admit!"

"There are many pains one must bear in life, Ron," Harry replied, calmly. It was the first he'd said to the other boy in hours.

"So you admit she can be a pain?" Ron smirked. Harry cursed inwardly – although Ron could be a little slow sometimes he could be quite verbally dextrous as well. Must have come from being a chess player.

"I didn't say that," the young Jedi countered with a frown, but Ron's smug grin remained. Clearly he felt he'd scored a point. "Look, you hurt her feelings," the young Jedi said firmly. "That isn't nice, Ron, no matter how much of a pain you think she can be."

Ron had the decency to look abashed, and Harry sensed that he had decided to apologise. Just then, Castor and Kara came down, both looking decidedly unhappy.

"She won't come down," Kara said when she sat down, addressing Harry. Her expression was downcast. "She's far too upset, and convinced that no one wants her anyway." The blonde girl gave Ron a filthy look, and he shrank back, looking even more apologetic.

"Leave off him," Castor admonished her, and Kara looked at her old friend in surprise. Harry was less surprised that Castor came to the defence of Ron's actions however – he had noticed that Castor tended to stick up for Ron, possibly recognising some similarities he shared with the boy in terms of temperament. "It isn't entirely his fault. That girl must learn to temper her arrogance. It's all well and good her being clever, but not everybody needs to know about it."

"She isn't a… one of our order," Harry said to his friend with a sigh. "We can't judge her by our standards."

Castor gave him a look that clearly suggested he felt otherwise. "We're moral and good," he said definitively. "Why shouldn't we?"

"Now who's being arrogant?" Kara said with a slightly vindictive and definitely triumphant smirk. "Anyway, I'm gonna go check on her again. Someone has to."

She stood up nodded at Harry, and walked off, leaving the boys alone. Castor harrumphed at her retreating form, but nodded to himself.

"She does have a point," he admitted grudgingly, before looking over at Harry. The raven-haired boy nodded and patted his friend on the shoulder.

Ron looked at Kara's retreating form, then at Harry, his expression one of confusion mixed in with his guilt.

"What are you lot on about?" he asked in an undertone. "What is 'your order'?"

Ah – he had picked up on that. This was something Harry had expected to happen for a while to be honest. Oh well, Harry thought to himself, ignoring Castor's warning look. Despite Ron's behavioural slip when he hurt Hermione's feelings, he was still Harry's friend and deserved to know the truth: lies did not become a Jedi and lying to a friend was especially wrong.

Harry was about to begin explaining a little about the Jedi Order, when he was startled out of his thoughts by the sudden arrival of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell, a nervy man who nearly always wore purple robes and a turban. The DADA teacher was running into the hall, yelling at the top of his voice.

"Troll! In the dungeon!" he screamed. "Troll in the dungeon!"

The entire hall stared at him for a full five seconds in absolute shock, silence falling over the crowded room. And then Quirrell added, in an almost conversational tone, "thought you ought to know," before he passed out and collapsed on the floor unconscious.

Harry blinked, and looked at Ron, who looked absolutely terrified. Harry stayed sat down, as did Castor, since whatever a troll was (and they figured it wasn't Cin Drallig – probably an unpleasant creature of some kind) running around panicking wasn't the way to deal with it. They knew panicking and attempting to scatter, as the rest of the school had started doing, would be futile and pointless.

Dumbledore, to his credit, took immediate control of the situation, standing up and raising his hands in a placating gesture.

"Quiet!" he yelled in a commanding tone that held the entire Hall's attention, silencing the screaming. Every single eye in the Hall looked at the ancient headmaster. "Everyone will please not panic," Dumbledore added in a firm but kind voice. Harry blinked. There was a wash of calm as Dumbledore said those words, almost as though he were using a Force-suggestion. But that was impossible...

"Prefects will please escort their charges to the common room," Dumbledore commanded, and Percy Weasley and a dozen other students scrambled to obey this command. "We staff will deal with the troll."

Dumbledore seemed to throw a quick glance at Snape, who nodded and rushed off immediately, most likely to ensure that the troll did not escape the dungeon.

It was right at this moment that Harry realised something dreadful, something that, in the panic just now, he had almost forgotten. He felt a cold pit of fear developing in his stomach but quenched it quickly, drawing upon his training. He breathed in and ran up to Castor, who was walking up the stairs at the rear of the column, looking alert in case anything troll-esque attacked.

"We have to find Hermione and Kara," the Jedi Padawan said quickly, grabbing his friend's arm. "If a troll is what I think it is, it could kill then with a flick of its arm."

"You're right," agreed Castor, whose look of worry showed that he had already considered this. "We've got to get them out of the firing line."

Just then, Ron ran over to them, looking as worried as they were – clearly the idea the three were having was the same.

"D'you think we should go find Hermione and Kara?" he asked them, his concern evident in his voice. Yup, they were all on the same wavelength. "They don't know about the troll."

"That's just what we were going to do," said Harry amiably, surprised that Ron was suggesting this - it was a strange thing for him to show concern about Hermione Granger, but then he wasn't a bad person and no doubt wouldn't wish a troll on his worst enemy. "You're welcome to join us."

Ron nodded emphatically, determination evident on his face, and together the three set off, running as fast as Ron could. The two Jedi could have made it in half the time but leaving Ron behind would be stupid when a troll was on the loose. When they finally did get to the girls bathroom, however, they were in for a nasty surprise.

The troll was apparently exactly what Harry had feared it was - a twelve foot tall monster, big and grey, its skin the texture of rock. It had a small head and a massive wooden club.

It was entering the bathroom just as the three boys got there, though it barely managed to fit into the doorway.

"Damn," said Castor with a grimace. "Now we're going to have to fight that thing."

"Doesn't look so tough," said Harry thoughtfully, and quietly so Ron couldn't hear. Castor gave him a look that suggested he thought his friend mad. "A quick jump slice with my lightsaber should do it."

"What about Ron and Hermione?" Harry's friend said to him. "We can't reveal our nature to them."

"Why not?" asked Harry, hardly thinking now was the time for this discussion. "It would only be them, and who would believe them if they started spouting off about it?"

Castor nodded slowly, accepting his logic. Castor took out his own training lightsaber, staring at the handle briefly.

"Might be unable to slice that nerf-herding thing, but at the same time, it'll distract it," he said in explanation at Harry's glance at the training weapon.

"Not necessarily," Harry replied with a quick smile. He quickly grabbed the training sabre, and twisted one of the dials three times left and two times right. "Should work on full power now."

"How...?" Castor asked, mystified.

"They can work at full power," Harry informed him with a grin. This was one of the more interesting lessons Master Araphis had taught him. "There's a combination that a Knight is told in case they have to use a training sabre in an emergency."

Castor nodded his gratitude at Harry with a smile. Ron, who had run over to the door of the bathroom waiting for them, motioned sharply.

"I reckon something's happening!" he hissed. Quickly, the three of them entered the bathroom, ready for action.

* * *

><p>Kara had sat outside Hermione's cubicle for the past five minutes, frowning as she sensed some kind of panic coming from downstairs – was it something she should be concerned about?<p>

She wavered for a moment, but in the end decided that it was nothing - these Earth people seemed to enjoy scaring each other on Halloween.

Then the young Jedi initiate sensed an intelligence of some kind - if it could be called that - coming toward the bathroom. A big, unpleasant intelligence, judging from the feeling it generated in the Force; malice of a small and petty kind was in its heart.

"Hermione," she said urgently, fighting the very un-Jedi like wave of panic she was feeling, "get out of there. We have to leave, now!"

Hermione opened the door to the cubicle that she had been hiding in, a look of confusion on her face.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking around at the empty bathroom and then staring slightly accusingly at Kara. Before the blonde girl could speak, she was saved from having to explain her bad feeling by sudden, pounding footsteps coming from outside.

"What is that?" Hermione asked in a small voice. Kara closed her eyes and calmed herself in the Force, before taking out the small training lightsaber that she always kept hidden on her person and igniting it, standing in a combat ready pose. Hermione gazed at the blade in wonder.

"What is…?" she began, cut Kara cut her off with a sharp hand motion.

"Keep behind me!" she yelled, and Hermione did so as the pounding got closer and closer, until eventually it reached the door of the bathroom – and a small head on large shoulder atop an even larger (and uglier) grey, rocky body entered the room.

"A troll!" Hermione gasped. "That's a mountain troll!"

Kara raised her sabre in a guard posture, realising that the gesture was all but irrelevant given the creature's size and build. It gazed down at her, frowned stupidly, and was about to attack when suddenly, to Kara's immense relief, Harry, Ron and Castor entered.

Then the creature swung its club down…

* * *

><p>The three boys entered the girl's bathroom, just in time to see the troll raising a massive club to try and crush Kara. The young Jedi dodged the blow, deactivated her lightsaber and rolled under the creature's legs, reaching her friends, but in doing so, leaving Hermione alone facing the troll.<p>

"Diversionary tactics!" yelled Harry, reacting immediately and igniting his sabre. Kara and Castor nodded, and then ignited their sabres too - Kara's was a leaf green and Castor's azure blue. Castor used the Force to lend his legs speed, and within a second was standing in front of Hermione, feet apart, in a classic fighting stance. The troll brought its club down, but the young Jedi managed to dodge it.

"This is nuts!" he yelled, and he swung his blade, cutting the giant club in half. The troll lifted the remains of its weapon, stared at it stupidly for a moment, then frowned and roared.

"Stop complaining!" Kara yelled over at her friend. She darted in, and swung at the trolls legs. The cut was imprecise and her blade was depowered, and thus her hit only stung the creature, but it howled in pain anyway. It snarled at the little blonde girl and threw the remains of its club at her, knocking her into a wall where she slumped, dazed.

"Kara!" Castor yelled, running over to his friend in concern. Harry grimaced, as he found himself, alone, facing the thing as it turned toward him. Ron had run over to Hermione and grabbed her, and together the other four were huddled in a corner, watching Harry face off against a monster quite capable of crushing him.

"Hello," the young Jedi said to the troll evenly. It looked down at him and snarled, but, his lightsaber on full power, he summoned the Force and jumped – reaching its head. He swung his blade through the air…

The head came off and landed in the sodden bathroom with a wet "plop". The troll's body stood for a moment until it registered the fact that it was no longer alive, and it followed the head into the ground. Hermione, rescued by Ron, was looking at them in shock, while Ron looked amazed.

"That was absolutely bloody brilliant!" he enthused with a shout. Harry looked to his friends, and then jerked his head in the direction of the door. Quickly, the five students left the dead troll, before any teachers showed up and they would have to explain themselves.

* * *

><p>Jacen Araphis could no longer sense the dark presence in the wood, but nonetheless he continued through the woods, seeking clues as to what the dark presence had been. There was no sign of it.<p>

The Jedi Knight sighed, and began heading back to the clearing. However, before he could do so he found himself staring down the shaft of an arrow. A creature with the torso, head and arms of a human and the body of a Horse - it was a Centaur, Araphis remembered from some previous travels - stared at the Jedi with a frown that was almost an expression of disgust.

"Why are you here?" the centaur asked, hostility in its tone. The Jedi bowed respectfully to it, but it kept the bow and arrow firmly aimed at him.

"I am Jedi Knight Jacen Araphis," the Jedi introduced himself with a smile. "I walk through these woods in search of a dark presence that I detected."

"Why are you in these woods at all?" the centaur asked.

"I have introduced myself," Araphis said, keeping his expression friendly. "It would be polite of you to do the same."

"Politeness doesn't matter to me, human," the centaur said with a sneer of disgust. "I asked you why you are in our woods!"

"My understanding is that these woods are free for all who choose to live here," the Jedi said to the centaur, sensing that it was hostile not toward merely him but toward any it perceived as different to itself. Frowning slightly, he added, "therefore I feel no need to explain myself if you are not willing to be civil."

"I do not need to be," the centaur replied. "I am armed and you are not."

"Believe that if you will," Araphis said amiably. The centaur glared and then without warning loosed its arrow, the metal point heading straight for Araphis' head.

It stopped, three centimetres away from Araphis' head. The Jedi Knight hadn't moved, and continued to look at the centaur with an entirely friendly expression belying the skill he had just demonstrated.

"Impossible!" the centaur said, staring at Araphis as though he were a ghost. Then he narrowed his eyes in a venomous glare at the Jedi. "You will die."

"I do not wish to be your enemy," the Jedi said to the centaur, holding up his hand in a token of peace. The centaur grinned maliciously.

"It is not I who will kill you, Jedi," he said. With the the centaur turned and galloped away, leaving Araphis standing alone, pondering the truth behind the creature's words.

* * *

><p>They had come back to the common room, where they had been docked five points each for wandering, and then, when everyone else was upstairs, Hermione and Ron had looked at them expectantly. Though at this point none of the three Jedi had really wanted to, in the end they had to explain everything to Ron and Hermione. Harry was the speaker for the little group of Jedi Youngings, so he was the one that Castor and Kara trusted to tell the story as it was. Harry had told the two young wizards first about where he had spent the last ten years, telling them about the portal, the Jedi Order, the Force… and of course he had to include a little explanation about the lightsabers.<p>

"Jedi?" asked Hermione when he'd finished, scepticism evident in her voice. The idea of alien beings and an entire order of knights dedicated to the defence of an entire _galaxy's_ worth of sentients and planets was a little much for her to take all in one go.

"Jedi," repeated Harry, matter-of-factly. "Me, Castor and Kara, are Jedi. Have been since we were small children."

"So, can anyone become a Jedi?" Hermione asked, tilting her head as she tried to absorb the truth of what she was being told. It was a fascinating thing to be discussing.

Castor took this as the moment to join the conversation. He shook his head slowly.

"You have to be pretty talented with the Force, and you have to start young," he explained to the two young wizards. "It's a pretty gruelling training too."

Hermione nodded comprehendingly, a thoughtful frown upon her face. Ron meanwhile, looked from one young Jedi to another. It had been fairly awesome, seeing a mountain troll – something some full grown wizards would have had trouble being able to deal with – being despatched so easily.

"Can you test us out to see if we have – you know, that 'Force' thing?" the red-headed boy asked. "To see if we could... y'know."

Hermione looked at him as he spoke, then back to Harry, nodding in sudden agreement. If there was a chance they could be eligible to become Jedi she wanted to know.

Harry looked between the two wizards and then nodded slowly. "There is a way," he confirmed, and his two friends exchanged an excited glance. Harry knew he shouldn't really be considering this, but he wanted to. Couldn't hurt, he thought to himself. "I'll test you."

He turned to Castor and whispered something, and then turned back to his two friends, closed his eyes, and reached out with the Force, getting a feel for the two wizards' sense in the Force. The Force was strong in both of them – it was magic after all – and the two were both apparently capable of accessing it without wands, although the ability had never been tapped.

Castor meanwhile had gone up to the boy's dormitory at Harry's request and come back down with a midichlorian counter. He tested the two young Hogwarts students with the device. The numbers were decent - not overly huge, maybe 8,000 each, but that wasn't small. These two had potential to be trained.

Harry started thinking. If they weren't too old, then they would be pretty good Jedi - then again, age was a barrier he had never really understood, and neither had Qui-Gon. Furthermore, Qui-Gon had shown him several holocrons from the time when Jedi Knights could be trained from an older age, sometimes even well into adulthood. Harry considered all of these things as well as the two eager young people before him, both amazed at what he had shown them. He thought for a long moment...

"You know," he said to Castor at last, "they are both strong with the Force."

"I know what you're thinking Harry," said Kara, looking between her two fellow Jedi. "It's really dangerous. What if the council found out?"

"What if they didn't?" asked Castor in return, nodding and grinning slightly. "It'd be good having more Jedi around."

Harry nodded, taking all these things into account. Making his decision, he turned toward Ron and Hermione.

"We could teach you the basics of the Jedi way, so that you could become at least part Jedi," he said slowly, and he held up a hand to forstall the obvious gushes of thanks. "It would be hard, and you must – _must_ – keep it a secret. If you're willing, then meet us here tomorrow, and we can discuss it further." Hermione and Ron looked shocked, but happy, and they nodded eagerly. "Now," added Harry in a slightly lighter tone of voice, "I think we should all go to bed."

They all agreed with that idea. 


	7. Chapter 7

7

They recited together, the words a source of power and wisdom and inspiration for the two warriors as they prepared to go into battle. It was power and wisdom they would need, for tonight they would duel a worthy foe. Not something the two Dark Twins could often say.

_"Peace is a lie; there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me."_

The words of the ancient Sith Code, a corruption of the Jedi Code (although some Sith argued that the Jedi Code was the corruption) and a source of knowledge and enlightenment for any who followed the Sith Path as the Dark Twins did.

Their Master had ordered them to kill the Jedi Knight that hid in the dark forest, and they were eager to get on with it. That part of their orders, the killing, they liked more than any other.

"Remember," Karoc said to Vinoc as the prepared to engage their enemy. "Be careful. He's Jedi. They're tricky."

"I know," Vinoc replied, snapping slightly. He calmed himself, saving the anger as fuel for the battle ahead. "I'm ready. Let's do it."

The two stole off into the night, preparing to slay the Jedi Knight.

* * *

><p>Araphis was busy once again meditating when he sensed his foes - another thread of darkness in the great tapestry. He was up in an instant, his blue blade drawn and his fighting stance prepared – the stance of Niman, the moderation form. His ace-in-the-hole of battle, for everyone he knew underestimated this form... until they lost, that is.<p>

There they were - the two enemies revealed themselves, stepping out of the forest depths, both of them tall, young, pale skinned, and both stinking of the dark side.

"Who are you?" the Jedi asked, his voice taking on a threatening tone. He raised his lightsaber in a high guard.

"Ah, you must be the Jedi Knight Araphis," said one of the Darksiders, his voice a Coruscanti accent with a mocking undertone. "I am Vinoc..."

"... and I am Karoc," finished the other, the same accent and mocking tone present and correct. "We hope you have enjoyed your existence, Jedi..."

"... for now it is about to end!" Vinoc finished, with a snarl. And with that, the two Darksders drew lightsabers and ignited them - both the blades were the deepest of blood reds. The two Dark Assassins saluted and then both stood in the traditional Juyo stance. Araphis shifted his guard slightly to compensate for the disadvantage he suffered in numbers.

All three combatants stood still for a moment, as if they were waiting for some hidden signal, and then as one, all three leapt into combat, lightsabers spinning.

Araphis dodged Karoc's first blow, and leaped over Vinoc, landing behind the two, enjoying their surprise at his Ataru flourishes - no one ever expected a Niman fighter to use the more advanced moves, a surprise that Araphis enjoyed delivering.

Vinoc spun and brought his sabre down in an arc, which Araphis blocked quickly. As he kicked the Dark Jedi away, he blocked a crude blow from the other, before spinning into a striking assault that sent both jumping backwards in order to avoid impalement.

"You are good, Jedi," said Vinoc grudgingly.

"Indeed you are," agreed Karoc, frowning. Then the Dark Jedi smiled. "But we're better."

The two leapt at Araphis, who blocked blow after blow. He spun his blade in an arc, forcing Karoc to jump back, before attacking Vinoc and slicing his lightsaber in half. Believing him to be no further threat, Araphis Force-pushed him back and turned to Karoc, and launched an assault that had the Dark Jedi on the defensive and gradually giving ground. He spun, swung, thrust, uppercutted and jump sliced, each blow being blocked only just by the panicking Dark Jedi. Vinoc however, had an ace up his sleeve. He drew a second lightsaber, and attacked from behind. Faced with this sudden onslaught, Araphis couldn't block every blow, and jumped backwards, surrendering the advantage for the moment.

"Why are you here?" he asked the two Dark Jedi, scrutinising them.

"The Jedi Padawans are wanted by our Master," Vinoc smiled, thinking nothing of telling his enemy this information since he was about to die anyway.

"Silence," Karoc snarled, realising the danger. but it was too late. With this knowledge, Araphis knew what he had to do. He deactivated his sabre, Force-pushed the two Dark Jedi back and ran for the school.

Karoc snarled, and leapt after the Jedi, followed closely by Vinoc. They would kill the Jedi Master and then the Padawan would be theirs - to kill.

* * *

><p>Hermione concentrated, her eyes closed, her mind as open as she could make it. It was the fifth day of their training, and still, she had been unable to use the Force properly. Harry had commented that this was understandable. He mentioned something about a... "holocron?" And how older trainees sometimes took a great deal of time to access the Force, as their inhibitions and own beliefs about the physical world prevented them from doing anything.<p>

She was sitting cross legged on the floor of the common room, a lightsaber - one of Harry's spare training blades - on the table in front of her.

"That's it," Harry's voice came floating through her concentration. "You've got to feel the Force, flowing through you, around you..."

She felt something, she was sure of that. A sort of - tingle. She focused in on it, and felt a slight warmth flow through her body...

"Keep going," Harry's voice said, encouraging her. "Now, concentrate on the sabre... concentrate... imagine reaching out for it, taking it, and holding it in your hand..."

She imagined, concentrated, and put into practice all the things that Harry was telling her. And she felt it - the Force. Like light flowing through her veins. Suddenly, before she could tell what had happened or how, the lightsaber was in her hand; she stood up quickly, eyes opening, looking shocked at the sight.

She looked up, to see Harry smiling at her. He was wearing his Jedi robes, and she was wearing some of Kara's spares – "train as a Jedi, dress as a Jedi," as Castor had said.

"Very good," Harry congratulated her. "Very good. You've taken your first step into a larger world. Time to test your reflexes..."

He was considered one of the best lightsaber duellists in the temple of his age, and a promising young student, and was eager to begin teaching what he knew to others - he was pleased that he could share his knowledge. Both Qui-Gon Jinn and Jacen Araphis had always told him that teaching was the duty of a Jedi Knight, to pass on what they had learned to the next generation, and Harry had always taken this to heart.

Never mind that Hermione and Ron were his age, he still felt as though he could help them, and it made him... content, in a way he had never before experienced.

As he was about to impart some other element of Jedi knowledge, though, he felt something. Something wrong, very wrong, like a sudden squirt of murky ink into clear water.

He closed his eyes, and concentrated on the feeling, trying to discern what it was… he couldn't quite tell what the feeling was, but it stank – it stank of the Dark Side.

"Do you sense that?" he asked Hermione, unsure whether her senses would be that attuned yet, but reasoning it couldn't hurt to ask.

Hermione was about to shake her head, when a shiver ran through her whole body, and the same dark feeling reached her, though rather than "smelling" the Dark Side, she felt a coldness spreading through her body.

"I think I did," she said, frowning at the horrible feeling. At that point, Castor, Kara and Ron, who had been doing some lightsaber drills in the common room main area, (empty for the moment) ran in, Ron following the two Padawans, who both looked extremely nervous.

"Did you sense that?" asked Castor, breathless. Harry nodded.

"What does it mean?" asked Kara, worry etched in her face. "What could be causing it?"

Before any of them could answer, another feeling ripped through them - a voice speaking, forcing its way painfully into their minds, so full of hatred and loathing that it could only belong to a darksider...

_"Jedi Padawans, the age of your order is at an end. I offer you another way. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hatred. Hatred leads to power. Power leads to victory. Let your anger flow through you. Your hate will make you strong. True power is only achieved through testing the limits of one's anger, passing through unscathed. Rage channelled through anger is unstoppable. The dark side of the Force offers unimaginable power. The dark side is stronger than the light. The weak deserve their fate. Remember these words, Padawans. Surrender to my servants, and you will be spared much pain."_

The voice faded from the shocked Jedis' minds. The three Padawans stood rooted to the spot in utter horror. Such words, the darkest known to the Jedi, the Code of their enemy, spoken inside their very minds... the experience made them feel utterly violated. While Ron and Hermione didn't know what it had meant, they knew they didn't want to.

"Tell me that wasn't what I thought it was," Kara said at last, tears streaming down her face at the agony of it, not to mention the violation of her mind.

"A Dark Lord of the Sith, speaking to us through our minds? I think it was," said Castor dryly, his calm tone belying the fear and horror in his eyes. "And I think that that's a problem with a capital 'P'."

As if on a hidden cue, the three Jedi ran out of the common room, Ron and Hermione running after them, both confused and scared.

* * *

><p>The group ran into the entrance hall. A few people milled about, looking at the quintet in their strange robes with humour on their faces. Harry tried to feel for his Jedi Master, and he found him – running towards Hogwarts. He gasped when he sensed the pursuit.<p>

"Master Araphis is under attack..." he choked, shock running him through like a sabre. He couldn't believe it - the brave Jedi Knight was under attack by Sith? The Sith, the darkest order, who had been extinct for millennia? Here? How? More importantly, why?

And then the meaning of the dark message was suddenly clear to him. The Sith wanted him and his friends. He blinked as this realisation hit him, making him feel utterly hollow. He was in mortal danger here.

At his report of his Master's peril, Kara had gasped and Castor took his training sabre out of the folds of his robes. Ron and Hermione stood still, waiting for someone to tell them what to do, to give them instruction. They didn't understand what was going on, but at 'Dark Lord' they'd already known that it was bad.

"Now what?" asked Ron at last, looking around edgily.

At that point, as if in answer to the recent induction's question, the doors to the entrance hall exploded open inward, and a man came flying in backwards as though propelled.

"What the bloody -?" Ron yelled, staring in shock.

"Thermal detonator?" Kara asked, assessing the damage to the door.

"Can't be," Harry replied shrewdly. "Wouldn't have caused so much damage to that door."

And then, two robed figures entered, eliciting screams from some people. They marched into the hall, where Professor Snape and Hagrid, the gamekeeper, went to intercept them, both looking grim. The figure who had apparently been blasted in stood to his feet, and looked over at the knot of Jedi.

"Harry!" he called – it was Araphis. Harry ran to him, relieved, followed quickly by the others.

"I'm glad you're alright, Master!" Harry said, a smile appearing on his face.

"I'm glad you're safe too," Araphis said, smiling too, albeit grimly. Then the older Jedi caught sight of Castor, Kara, Ron and Hermione, all in Jedi robes. "And these are…?"

Meanwhile, Snape and Hagrid confronted the two Dark Jedi, Hagrid backing the Potions Master up.

"Who are you?" demanded Snape of the two figures grimly. "What do you want?"

"I am Karoc," one of the men said, as if speaking to a child.

"And I am Vinoc," added the other, equally condescending.

"We want the Jedi Padawans," continued Karoc.

"We are to take them to our Master," added Vinoc. "So get out of our way little man."

"I don't know who you mean," Snape said slowly, eyes narrowing as he sized the two Dark Jedi up, "but you will not get anywhere through use of the Force. I know of your kind, Darksiders..."

He reached inside his robes, presumably for his wand, but before he could draw it out, one of the men raised his hand and unleashed a bolt of Force lightening the gripped Snape and threw him across the room to land in a smoking huddle. Hagrid ran over to him and looked at the downed man in shock.

"Get... Dumbledore!" Snape hissed angrily, before passing out. Looking at the two figures, Hagrid seemed on the verge of doing something else. Harry could sense his rage building.

"No Hagrid!" he yelled quickly. "Go! We'll handle this."

Araphis nodded to the large man grimly. Hagrid wavered a moment more, unsure whether to trust this stranger, but he trusted Harry Potter, and so he ran for help, picking up and carrying Snape as he did so.

Araphis quickly turned to Harry.

"You go too," he said grimly. "I'll take them."

"You can't do it alone, Master," Harry said desperately, but Araphis shook his head and held up a hand.

"You are but a Padawan," he told his apprentice, "and my duty is to defend you. I will do what I must."

He ignited his blue blade, nodded grimly at Harry and the others, who retreated up the entrance hall stairs, and then with a cry the Jedi charged into battle.

From the top of the stairs the group of young Jedi watched the fight. Araphis' first blow was blocked by Vinoc, barely, and his second sent Karoc stumbling off, disbalanced. He parried a series of Juyo strikes from the two, and jumped backwards, before engaging them with – was that Makashi? It was powerful and balanced and a Form of skill, but against Juyo Harry knew from Qui-Gon it didn't have enough kinetic power to hold its own.

It happened in a flash. The two Dark Jedi outflanked Araphis as he twirled, blocking every blow that came his way, and then, with a slice, the brave man was on the floor, slain by a cut to the chest. The Jedi Knight's eyes went wide in shock and then he exhaled and was still.

"No!" Harry yelled, feeling the severance of their bond. "Master!"

Ron and Hermione had never seen death up close, and it frightened them to witness it now. Castor and Kara, however, looked at Harry in sheer disbelief. Now what could they do?

The hall was now deserted (the other students having run away in terror) save for the Jedi Padawans and the Sith murderers. The two assassins stared up at the group of Jedi expectantly.

"Sith scum," Harry snarled from the top of the stairs, grabbing for his lightsaber. "I'll kill you for that."

He started forward, but Castor and Ron gripped his arms and stopped him. The two assassins smiled at the sight, and decided to wait for the Jedi to come for them, deactivating their blades.

"We'll wait!" Vinoc called up. "Take all the time in the world."

"We aren't going anywhere," added Karoc, with a malicious grin.

"Let go!" Harry said, looking at Castor and Ron angrily. "We have to take them."

"Are you insane, Harry?" Castor asked, hissing. "They're highly trained Sith assassins. We can't win."

"We're the only ones with a chance. We have to try," Harry replied, gravely. His anger quickly dissipated, the attachment to his late master flowing out of his mind as he assessed the situation with a cooler head. Now, he had to think like a Jedi, and he knew – with no small degree of certainty – that he and his friends were the only ones who could stop these assassins. Hermione and Ron moved forwards.

"We're helping," Ron said determinedly.

"No," Harry snapped, holding a hand up to stop him. "You won't last two seconds in a fight against these two."

"And you will?" countered Ron angrily. "Castor taught me the basics with this thing," he held up the borrowed training sabre, "and I can always improvise."

"I'm fighting too," added Hermione before Harry could object to Ron some more. "I'm not letting those two run amok. They've already killed someone."

She took out her borrowed sabre as well, but neither of the new initiates ignited their weapons, waiting for Harry's cue as they were.

Harry shook his head at them, admiring their bravery but at the same time thinking them both incredibly foolish.

"You aren't strong enough," he said, determined to keep them from this fight. "I don't think any of us are, but you especially not."

Castor and Kara looked at Hermione and Ron sympathetically, knowing full but then looked back at Harry with an expression of grim determination.

"Plan?" Castor asked, ignoring the melodrama that seemed to be starting.

"You and Kara take one," Harry replied softly, looking down at the assassins. "I'll take the other. You know less of the forms than I do so two on one is your only hope."

The twins were getting impatient, and it was beginning to tell – they were shifting their sabres from one hand to the other, looking around as if sizing up the terrain. Harry held out his hand, Kara gave him her training-sabre and he fixed the settings, before handing it back to her.

"You two can finish yours off, in time to help me with mine," he added to his two old friends. He didn't add the silent 'I hope', but he didn't really need to.

"And what about us?" Hermione asked grimly.

"I told you already, you aren't fighting," Harry told her. "Either of you. It's us they want, not you."

Hermione sighed, sensing that there was no point arguing. Ron looked angry and disappointed, but he nodded at Harry curtly. Harry smiled encouragingly at his friend.

"Maybe next time, eh?" he said, grateful that no one was bothering to point out that there might not be a next time.

"Excuse me for interrupting," one of the twins (Harry couldn't tell which) said loudly, "but if you are the Jedi Padawans, you can surrender now. Goodbyes to your pals aren't neccesary."

Harry grimaced, and turned back to face the Dark Jedi, his body subtly shifting into a battle stance.

"Leave this place, and live," he told them calmly, his voice resonating with power beyond his years. "Or fight and die."

"You think you can fight us?" sneered Vinoc in disbelief.

"Yes," said Kara simply, confidence brimming from her.

"We're Jedi, you're Dark Jedi," said Castor, his bravado belying his earlier words of pessimism. "We've been killing your kind for millennia."

The twins snarled as one.

"Just because our Master wants you alive, doesn't mean you have to be in one piece," Karoc sneered, igniting his blood red lightsaber and taking a Juyo stance. "Prepare to lose some limbs, younglings!"

For a single moment, the combatants stood, silent, watching each other, waiting for the same silent signal, then they all ran into the fight as one.

Harry jumped up in an Ataru attack and brought his lightsaber down on Vinoc, who blocked the strike with practiced ease, while Castor and Kara flanked Karoc, spinning into a Shii-Cho assault. Harry spun into a counter as Vinoc brought his blade down in a vicious arc which the boy barely blocked, then Harry unleashed an uppercut to try and drive the Dark Jedi back.

Castor and Kara were forced onto the defensive, Karoc swinging his sabre left and right, nearly decapitating Castor with his last swing, and kicking Kara into a wall, where she banged her head nastily. Hermione ran to help her, her blade at her side. Karoc Force pushed Castor away from him and stood over the girls, raising his sabre and smiling evily.

"You die now," he said simply.

He raised his sabre and then brought it down viciously, but rather than cutting through flesh it impacted on a blue lightsaber blade. Ron had joined the fight, a dark expression of anger on his face.

"I dunno who you are, what you want or where you came from," the young initiate said, "but as far as I'm concerned, you hurt my friends, you pay for it."

He brought his borrowed training sabre up to block Karoc's first strike, and forced him onto the defensive with a powerful (if highly unfinessed) assault. He had no form, but his righteous fury seemed to be doing the trick, surprising the Dark Jedi into giving ground.

Castor ran to aid Ron against Karoc, sensing where the ginger trainee was going to strike and quickly perfecting a method of striking where Karoc's guard was weakest, which in turn forced the dark assassin back even further.

Meanwhile, Vinoc was backing further and further back, Harry's blows getting closer and closer each time. The Dark Assassin was skilled but Harry was lucky - Harry was marvelling at his luck at driving the Dark Jedi back, in fact, but he kept his mind as focused as possible. Their skill was great and though he had extra training from Qui-Gon it might all prove for nothing if he got cocky. Vinoc swung a desperate counter strike that Harry blocked with ease, and backed against the wall.

Harry held his sabre up to Vinocs throat.

"You're beaten," he said simply, a grin on his face. He had actually won!

Vinoc, far from being worried, actually smiled at that, a leer that chilled Harry to the bone.

"I don't think so," the assassin said calmly. He quickly took a second lightsaber out and lunged. Harry jumped back in time to avoid being impaled by the rapidly igniting blade, and drew himself into a defensive posture drawn from Soresu.

Karoc was faring less well than his brother. Faced with Ron's furious, if hardly finessed and formless, attack, and Castor's accurate strikes that drove him further and further back, he mis-stepped, and Castor slashed his sabre across the Dark Acolytes face. The Assassin screamed at the burning pain the sabre caused, and dropped his sabre, and Castor stabbed him with his blade.

The Dark Jedi looked down at the protruding lightsaber in shock, and then slumped when Castor retracted the sword, dead before he hit the ground.

Seeing his brother fall, Vinoc screamed in utter rage, and went straight for Castor, knocking Harry aside with a punch that stunned the Padawan.

"You'll die Jedi swine!" the assassin bellowed in fury.

Castor ducked under Vinoc's first blow, and parried his second. Vinoc then launched into a series of badly judged but powerful strikes, Castor dodging each one, barely, slowly giving ground. Nonetheless, he was confident.

"Surrender now," suggested Castor with a grin, as he blocked yet another of Vinoc's attacks. Vinoc responded by kicking him in the groin. Castor staggered back, and tried to block the Dark Jedi's attacks with only one hand, but Vinoc sliced the sabre handle in two, and aimed his blade at Castor's throat.

Castor Force-propelled himself out of the way of the death blow, but rammed himself into a wall, and slumped to the floor, stunned.

All this had taken place in less than a minute, but now Kara and Harry could react, while Ron tended to Hermione. They attacked Vinoc from behind, but now the rage was flowing through him, and he parried their blows with practiced ease.

Castor stood up, watching this. Harry and Kara would be killed by the lunatic if he didn't do something soon...

He reached out in the Force, concentrating on Karoc's fallen lightsaber. It flew to his hand and he caught it with ease. He felt the grip - a little better than his training sabre's actually. Easier. More grip, sturdier. He ignited it, spun it a couple of times, getting used to it for a second, while Harry and Kara held out (he couldn't rush, he had to know the weapon or he would never use it well enough), and then he launched himself at the Dark Jedi's unprotected rear. Vinoc couldn't turn in time... and Castor impaled him in the back.

The Dark Jedi screamed in agony, and then collapsed to the floor in a heap.

The three Jedi (not to mention Ron and Hermione) stood silently for a moment, each panting from exertion. A moment's elation rushed through each of them - somehow, they had won! The Dark Jedi had been defeated!

"What in the name of all that's holy?" came a voice from above them in shock.

They turned to see Professor Minerva McGonagall looking down at them, in horror at the mess that had been caused, and in shock at the dead Jedi and Dark Acolytes.

"You five - headmaster's office, now!" she barked sternly, her face showing half fear, half fury.

Castor looked at Harry. Harry shrugged, and followed Professor McGonagall up the stairs. The others followed him. 


	8. Chapter 8

8

They had been taken up to see Professor Dumbledore by Professor McGonagall, who lead them to the third floor and past a strange doorway that responded to a password - "Fizzing Whisbees", for some reason. Rather whimsical but there were stranger things in this wizarding world.

Harry, Castor, Kara, Ron and Hermione now waited for the headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry to speak to them. The headmaster was sat at his desk, surveying the five nascent Jedi with piercing eyes that twinkled in the gloom. His office was filled with strange contraptions that seemed utterly purposeless, but Harry knew better than to judge things by their cover.

McGonagall was waiting impatiently, apparently eager for an explanation as to precisely why there were three dead bodies in the entrance hall. Although she hardly believed that the five children had done anything necessarily _wrong_ (in fact she had a sneaking suspicion that they might have saved the school from being destroyed by whoever the assassins who attacked Snape were) an explanation would have been lovely.

Finally, Professor Dumbledore spoke, in a surprisingly soft voice.

"Minerva, would you please leave us alone?" he asked politely. The Professor seemed shocked by this, but she merely nodded quietly, and left the five alone in the room with Dumbledore. As soon as she did, the headmaster stood up, and began reciting a mantra that Harry, Castor and Kara knew very well.

_"There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no death; there is the Force."_

As he spoke, his words were invested with an authority that the three young Jedi recognised instantly, and he ceased hiding his Force-signature from them. Harry, Castor and Kara each wore expressions of utmost shock, then as one bowed, recognising that they were in the presence of a Jedi Master. Hermione nudged Ron and they too bowed.

Dumbledore bowed back, serenely, and calmly sat down, a smile upon his face.

"Ah, my friends," he said happily. "I am most pleased that I no longer have to hide my Force-signature from you. It is most tiring."

"It never slipped," Harry said softly, awed. Such hiding was difficult at the best of times.

"It was necessary in the presence of one so skilled as you, Harry," Dumbledore replied, and he smiled again. "You are indeed a skilled Jedi. I knew I could rely on Yoda to train you well."

"You know Yoda?" asked Harry instantly. Dumbledore's smile, if possible, grew wider.

"I have been a Jedi Knight for many years now," he said. "To be a Jedi in these times is to know Yoda."

"How are you a Jedi?" Harry asked, confused by this revelation but somehow not entirely surprised.

"It will make more sense if I start from the beginning," Dumbledore told him. "There is a long tale to be told, and it would be best if you knew it, so you understand more about me, and why you, Harry, are a Jedi."

Harry said nothing, merely waited for Dumbledore to begin; it sounded like an important story to be related. Eventually, the old man took a long breath, as if steeling himself for something unpleasant, and then he began his tale.

"Years ago, before I was born, my father was an orthodox Jedi Knight," he explained slowly. "He was the one who first discovered the portal, and went through it. Unfortunately, he never found a way back through the portal, for the Force was not strong enough in him to open it alone. He met my mother, eventually, and fell in love, forsaking the Code, and together they had three children. Me, my younger brother Aberforth, and Ariana, my sister."

Dumbledore sighed at this last name. "When each of us were born," he continued, "my father knew that we would need to be trained in the Force. If we were not, the Dark Side would take us, and combined with what we would soon learn about magic, we would each become a greater threat to harmony in the universe than the Darkest of the Dark Lords of the Sith. So he trained me, and my brother too when he was old enough. But Ariana…"

Dumbledore tailed off before continuing. "One day while playing out, she was attacked by three Muggle boys who saw her doing accidental magic. She was rather badly injured by them, and my father went mad with anger – he Force Choked one of the boys into submission, and nearly killed the other two with his lightsaber – at the last second, he realised what was happening to him, but he was far, far too late. He was sent to Azkaban, and died there, never revealing why he had attacked those Muggles, or what he had done so with. Ariana went mad – she never used magic again, and the fact that she didn't drove her insane – the magical power bottled up inside her... well, it wasn't good."

Dumbledore stopped to wipe a tear from his eye, and looked at it, as if surprised it was there.

"I haven't cried about it for so long," he mused. "Memory is a wondrous thing." He looked back to his audience, and saw that they too were crying.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't stop to think that this might be distressing for you," he said, looking somewhat abashed.

"No, no it's alright," said Kara, wiping her tears. "Please continue." The others nodded.

Dumbledore nodded too, and he did continue, eventually.

"My mother and Ariana eventually died – the why of it has little to do with this tale – but without them both, my brother swore that he would never be a Jedi again. And so did I. It was my belief that if our father had not used the Dark Side in front of her, she wouldn't have been driven insane." Dumbledore sat up, and Harry sensed that this was where the part of the story relating to him would begin.

"Years later, when I was transfiguration teacher," the Headmaster continued, "I was contacted via the Force because someone else had gotten trapped."

_"Yoda?"_ asked Castor, incredulous, guessing who the person was.

"Yoda," confirmed Dumbledore. "He had been trapped for three days, and had sought out any Force users from this reality. Imagine his surprise when he met a potential Jedi then, hmm?" Dumbledore chuckled softly.

"He began training me, properly, using the forbidden forest as a hideout," Dumbledore explained, "and eventually, though it took me a year's hard effort, I achieved the rank of Knight. Together, using the Force, we opened the portal to Coruscant again, and Yoda left. Before he did, however, he promised me that he would help me whenever I needed it."

Dumbledore smiled, and now addressed Harry alone.

"Years later, when your parents were murdered, Harry, I decided to send you to Yoda for training," he said, and Harry blinked in shock. "I had already deduced that you were strong in the Force, and using all my Force power – with a little help from a very reluctant Aberforth – I reopened the portal, and contacted Yoda. He sent one of his best Jedi Master's through – "

"Master Qui-Gon Jinn," said Harry at once, thinking fondly of his old mentor.

"Yes, Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and they took you for training as a Jedi Knight. I trusted Yoda to make sure that you were safe. To explain your disappearance, it was decided to make it known that you had survived the attack by Voldemort –"

Ron shuddered at the name, but the others ignored it.

"- But that you had been taken in by a family in a remote part of the world." Dumbledore sat back, sighing as he thought back to those days. "Of course, I had to arrange a fake search for you to ascertain that you were with the said family. Every so often, Yoda would send reports of your progress, and I'm pleased to know that you did so well. We decided to send you to Hogwarts, as planned, mainly because it would be suspicious not to. And that leads us up to today."

He sighed after he had finished. He looked slightly younger than he had before, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Now then, I hope that clears up a few things, because I have some questions of my own," he said, leaning forward again and seeming more serious.

"Such as?" asked Harry politely.

"I require a report on the battle between you and the Assassins," Dumbledore said. "For when I inform Yoda."

Harry sighed, sadly. He didn't want to think about this very much, but he spoke anyway, heavy hearted by his tidings.

"Master Jacen Araphis was sent to aid us, as you probably know" he said softly and sadly. Dumbledore nodded.

"Well, he was ambushed by those Dark Jedi," Harry continued. "He's dead now, killed first by them, defending us. We – that is to say, I, Castor, Kara, and these two," he pointed to Ron and Hermione, "were able to defeat them, albeit barely."

Dumbledore nodded, but closed his eyes, and breathed in heavily. Death never got easier to deal with.

"Araphis is now one with the Force. As for you, Harry, you have all done well in facing these Dark Acolytes. I will make certain Yoda knows of it…" and here the old man smiled again, before looking more serious. "My second question relates to these two."

He indicated Hermione and Ron, who were standing behind the 'official' Jedi Padawans.

"I sense that they have started training in the ways of the Force," said Dumbledore. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't there an age limit on when you can start?"

"We asked to be trained," said Hermione.

"We asked them to test us," said Ron, "after they killed the troll at Halloween."

"Oh so that was you three, was it?" said Dumbledore, mild amusement on his face. "Glad to know who did it, because that was a bit of a mystery. We didn't quite get who could have done that, though I had my suspicions of course."

Harry smiled a little sheepishly.

"And from there, we'd only been training for five days when the… Dark Acolytes, turned up," said Hermione, stumbling over the term.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. For a long moment there was a sense of expectation – what was he going to say? Eventually Castor spoke up.

"Master Dumbledore, sir," he began.

"Professor, please," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "I was never trained to the rank of Jedi Master."

"Professor," Castor began again, "aren't you going to stop us from training Hermione and Ron?"

"Oh, now," Dumbledore said, smiling even more broadly now, "that would be telling." At the small band of young Jedi's looks of confusion, he added "Let us say my friends that I have a plan for how to approach this situation which I believe you will like very much. Now," he added, more businesslike, do you know how those Dark Jedi knew you were here? There should be wards against them being able to locate you..."

"Well," said Castor, "one would assume that they sensed us through the Force. None of us were capable of hiding our signatures in the Force, not like you can."

Dumbledore's eyes widened, and he slapped his forehead, before smiling ruefully at the small group.

"Of course – my apologies," he said. "I should really have known better. Sometimes I forget how powerful the Force really is. I should have taken more steps to protect you. In my arrogance, I expected that Hogwarts' built in defences would be enough."

"And they were not?" Harry asked.

"Apparently not," Dumbledore said sadly. He looked back at them. "Well, I won't take up any more of your time," he added. "Good day to you."

They bowed, all of them.

"May the Force be with you," said Harry.

Dumbledore smiled as they left.

"And may the Force be with you, Harry," he said softly.

* * *

><p>"Dumbledore a Jedi!" said Ron, surprise evident in his tone. "Never in a million years would I have thought of that!"<p>

"Why not?" said Hermione with a frown. "He's smart, and wise, and he's very powerful. Most wizards aren't half as powerful as he is! Now that I think about it," she added, "it's almost _too_ obvious."

"True," agreed Harry, with a slight and sly grin. "But I'm quite surprised too. It's not something I was expecting. What really surprises me though is that he didn't stop you two from training – I would have thought he would."

"Me too," said Castor. At the confused looks from the two newest Jedi, he added: "it is sort of against the rules, you know."

Hermione looked a bit worried, and Ron voiced the thought that had occurred to both of them.

"You won't – you know – stop training us, will you?" the red-head asked fearfully.

Harry laughed at the notion. The two had helped them defeat two Dark Jedi and they thought they _wouldn't_ be trained?

"Are you kidding?" said Castor, as Harry calmed down from his laughing fit. The young Jedi sounded strangely earnest. "You saved my life today, and I won't forget it! I'll train you even If Master Windu himself comes to stop me."

"And that's saying something," said Kara, in a teasing tone of voice. She added in an undertone, "Castor's scared of Mace Windu."

"I am not!" the other Jedi replied. "I find him intimidating, sure, but I'm not _scared_!"

While his friends bickered, Harry thought to himself. What had Dumbledore meant? What did he intend to do about Hermione and Ron? Leaving his friends to their good natured teasing, Harry went straight to bed. This had been one hell of a strange day…

* * *

><p>Darth Sidious cursed silently beneath his robes.<p>

He should never have trusted Vinoc and Karoc – too impatient, too stupid, to understand how not to kill everything in their paths. Sidious was glad he had never inducted them into the ranks of the true Sith Lords, not that they would have been anyway. Maul would have killed them both if they had ever tried to put their pathetic power plays into action.

Darth Maul himself stood behind Sidious. The short man had his hood up, disguising his horns, but his red and black tattooed face could not be hidden.

"Master?" he asked. "What do we do now?"

"Nothing," replied Sidious, mildly annoyed that the plans he had concocted had been so easily thwarted by younglings. This, he thought to himself, was why Darth Plagueis taught me to always have five plans running at once. "It is obvious even to me that this Harry Potter is too far ingrained as a Jedi to ever turn. His friends are also similarly ingrained."

"What of these ones he trains – they are not so ingrained in the ways of the weakling Jedi, Master," pointed out Maul innocently.

Sidious pondered. Maul might just be an assassin with a lightsaber, but it was clear that he had his own brand of wisdom that, at times, proved invaluable. Sidious had a complicated mind, so complicated that the obvious sometimes missed him.

"Perhaps you are right, Maul," Sidious said. "The girl or the boy might prove useful – they are certainly strong with the Force…" He looked out upon the world of Coruscant. "With them trained by us, we might be able to take over this galaxy easily."

He turned to Maul, banishing these thoughts for the moment.

"But none of this matters yet," he said, returning to the business at hand. "I want you to seek out Queen Amidala, take her back to Naboo, and make her sign the treaty. Nothing else must get in your way."

"What of the two Jedi, Master?" Maul asked calmly.

"Qui-Gon Jinn is a worthy foe, but his weakness is his fighting style – Form IV," Sidious said. "I have trained you to take advantage of every form's weaknesses, you will know what to do. As for Kenobi…"

Here, Sidious grinned evily under the cloak. "As for Kenobi," he continued, "he is young, foolish, and headstrong. He will fall easily."

"Yes, Master," said Maul acquiescently.

"Go, Lord Maul," Sidious ordered. "Make the Queen sign the treaty."

"It will be as you command, my Master," Maul confirmed, before he turned and headed for his ship.

Sidious turned back to watch the traffic of Coruscant, a world he would soon rule, one of many millions he would soon have in his iron grip.

"Your time is over, Jedi," he said softly, to no one in particular. "The time of the Sith Lords has returned…" 


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Slighty delayed due to delays and real life. Unfortunately this chapter is shorter than I would like, but oh well. I promise the next one will be longer.**

9

Several days after the battle in the entrance hall, there was no sign the duel had ever taken place. The assassins' bodies had been burned - Dumbledore had apparently seen to it at night when Harry and the others were sleeping, for which Harry was grateful. The less he saw of the assassins, in his book, the better: that fight would be one that stuck in his memory for a lifetime.

Jacen Araphis, as he deserved for his heroism, would be given a full Jedi funeral, one that Harry, Castor, Kara, Ron and Hermione had all been asked by Dumbledore to attend. Late at night, Harry and the others put on Jedi robes, put their hoods up, and walked out of the castle grimly. They were each in their own way grateful for the brave Jedi's sacrifice, even though only Harry knew Araphis that well.

When they reached the appointed part of the grounds, they saw Dumbledore; he too had his hood up and was looking at them all with sadness in his eyes. Harry stopped to consider just how many funerals Dumbledore would have attended during the time of Voldemort - too many, no doubt. Harry then started wondering whether he would have to attend as many funerals as Dumbledore had - in his heart he hoped not but as a Jedi his duty and the duty of his comrades meant that their lives were in danger - how many would die? How many pyres would Harry have to see lit? To light himself?

Upon a pyre built of fallen trees and dead branches lay the body of Araphis, adorned in his simple Jedi robe, hood down. The robe had been repaired, so there was no outward sign of the damage that had been done to the brave Knight. In the dark, he looked almost peaceful, as though he were asleep.

"Are you all prepared?" Dumbledore asked the group of first years. They all nodded. They were prepared, or at least as prepared as they could have been. Dumbledore nodded, and raised his wand, and in a flash, a slow fire started in the pyre.

"We remember," Dumbledore intoned slowly into the night, as the pyre began to burn brightly, "those who have left us, to become one with the Force. Their journey continues in the great mystery beyond, while we who are left honour their sacrifices and remember."

"I remember Jacen Araphis," Harry added softly. Although he had let go of his attachment, there was still sadness there - the man had been kind and honest and heroic. He had taught Harry much in the short space of time they had spent together. Harry would miss him.

"Araphis," Castor murmured in agreement, looking suitably downcast. The others joined him. Together, the little band of Jedi watched the fire burn.

* * *

><p>As well as the pyre for his body, a single memorial pillar had been erected for the brave Knight - a simple marble pillar with his name and the last line of the Jedi Code - "There Is No Death, There Is The Force" - etched into the stone. What he had done, fighting to protect Hogwarts, was not something that could be allowed to be forgotten, and although a Jedi would not normally ask for a memorial of this kind, Dumbledore had insisted and it seemed a fitting tribute.<p>

After the funeral, Dumbledore informed Harry that he would attempt to contact Yoda, mainly to inform him of the death of Araphis but also to sort out "some other things I've been looking into". Harry had no idea what he might mean by that but he didn't focus too much attention on it for the moment. There were other things to do.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore had indeed contacted Yoda. He had needed certain things confirming as soon as possible, including precisely what he was going to do about Harry and the others. However that would have to wait a moment, for Dumbledore's plan was almost ready to be put into action.<p>

After having done some surreptitious testing of the students' of Hogwarts as well as some serious logistical work (the making of robes and training sabre's, the sending of several messages to and from various sources, the surreptitious transportation of several items from the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, and a lot of preparation et al), Dumbledore was ready to make the announcement that he had been waiting to make for months. The announcement that - hopefully - would change the wizarding world.

It was on a relatively dull January morning that Dumbledore stood to address the students in the Great Hall.

"A new extra-curricular scheme has been started by myself, designed to teach select students certain techniques to enable them to have better control of their magic," he said to the assembled students in the Great Hall, his voice serious but his eyes twinkling. "I have drawn up a list of students that I believe may benefit from this scheme."

At his words, Kara, Castor, Harry, Ron and Hermione all exchanged glances. Surely, the old headmaster could not be thinking what they thought he was thinking? The rest of the students were confused. Techniques? Better control? Some of the more uncharitable students wondered precisely what on Earth the old dingbat was on about, but they kept quiet.

"Said lists of those eligible to take part in this scheme are being put up in your house common rooms as we speak," Dumbledore continued, oblivious to the confusion of the students. "Those of you who are selected will find Owls coming in the next few days containing several vital pieces of equipment for you. The first lesson is compulsory, however further attendance is entirely your choice."

Harry and his friends didn't know whether it would be wise to approach Dumbledore and ask what this scheme was exactly, so instead, like everyone else, they went back to their common room, and began going through the lists. The list in Gryffindor's common room had been segmented by year group, and all the year groups had some students selected. All the Weasleys had been picked, which surprised Ron, as had Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan (but not Dean Thomas) and Hermione Granger. Parvati Patil was not on the list but Lavender Brown was, and Harry noted with a slight smile that both Castor and Kara had made it on, as had Harry himself.

What really made him smile though was the symbol at the top of the parchment – a star shooting out of the ground, flanked by two curved wings that stretched out majestically from either side of the star. Otherwise known as the symbol of the Jedi Order on Coruscant.

"A Jedi Order?" Kara whispered to Harry in disbelief. "I don't believe it!"

"This is going to be amazing," Castor said, in quiet awe.

* * *

><p>A few days later, Harry and his friends, along with the rest of the first year Jedi students (each year group of potential Jedi was being trained separately), entered the Great Hall, where the lessons for the Jedi Order would take place.<p>

"I bet Dumbledore's gonna start from the beginning," Castor grumbled under his breath to Kara as the little group entered the Hall.

"Why wouldn't he?" his friend asked in reply. "As far as anyone's aware, there's never been any such thing as Jedi before."

"Because we've done the beginning stuff already," Castor said, as if stating the obvious.

"It will do us no harm to practice," Harry said, looking at his two friends with a smile. In truth he was rather looking forward to the opportunity.

"Yeah well..." grumbled Castor, good-naturedly, "I really hope it's worth it."

"Learning," Harry countered, grinning at his friend, "is always worth it." Castor grinned too, albeit somewhat ruefully. He knew his friend was right, but he still felt frustration that he had to go through these things again. Kara merely assumed her normal serene expression and prepared for the training.

Dumbledore stood up at the head of the Hall, where he had his traditional Jedi robes on in brown and cream, and he smiled down at the assembled students kindly.

The assembled students certainly looked the part, all of them wearing the Jedi gear that Dumbledore had owled them. The robes were styled exactly like the Jedi attire Castor, Kara and Harry were used to back on Cruscant, with an under-tunic consisting of obi and trousers, and an over-robe with hood that was a darker shade of whatever colour each student wore. The Hufflepuffs (of which there were roughly nine) had yellow robes, light yellow tunics under dark yellow over-robes. The Slytherins (of which there were about seven, including Draco Malfoy, an arrogant, rude boy whom Harry disliked intently) wore dark green tunics and almost black robes, which Harry thought suited them very well given that some of them really were not nice. The Gryffindors (ten) wore scarlet tunics under maroon robes, and the Ravenclaws (eight) wore midnight blue robes over ultramarine tunics.

"I notice that you all have the uniforms I had owled to you," Dumbledore began, taking in the sight of the little group of Jedi with a large smile. "While I understand that it may be confusing, I hope that soon you will understand precisely why your choice of clothing is important."

Harry briefly smiled as he remembered the old training manual "The Jedi Path" that he had read parts of years ago (other parts were beyond his level and he was fairly certain his copy of the book had been left back on Coruscant). It stressed that wearing the uniform was an important part of a Jedi's self-identity.

Dumbledore had stopped speaking. The old wizard seemed to be considering precisely how to word what he had to say next.

"The form of magic that we are going to be studying in these lessons," he finally said, speaking slowly, as though unsure how to phrase what he was saying, "is _very_ special, and with it you will be able to broaden your magical horizons beyond that which you have previously been led to believe possible."

"What form of magic is that?" Draco Malfoy said sullenly, interrupting the old wizard. Dumbledore turned to him, casting a knowing blue gaze over the boy. He smiled.

"The usual term used is 'the Force', Mr Malfoy," he said amiably, and then he became more serious. "Binding the entire universe together is the living energy field known as the Force. It is within each of us, binding all of us together in a way beyond simple flesh and blood and bone."

Neville Longbottom raised a hand, and Dumbledore nodded at him. "Sir... w-why are only some of us here? Can't everyone use it?"

Castor and Kara looked at each other, and Harry sighed, waiting for the midichlorian explanation. Instead however, Dumbledore just smiled.

"I will teach you in these classes not to ask 'why' of such things," he explained slowly. "The Force is sometimes said to have a 'will', and those who follow the ways of the Force try to follow that will as best they can. Part of your reason for being here is, I admit, because of what I believe that will is."

"So you don't _know_ what that will is?" Malfoy said, almost but not quite sneering.

"No one truly _knows_, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore replied, still perfectly amiable. "However when you learn to focus your mind, you can learn to _feel_ the will of the Force."

The old headmaster took out his wand, and very carefully laid it down on the ground at his feet. The students looked at each other, confused. Only Harry, Ron, Hermione, Castor and Kara looked like they had any idea what he was doing.

"This is your first lesson," Dumbledore told the group. "Within you is the power to summon the Force. For that, you do not need magic." He knelt down in a meditative pose, and then closed his eyes. "I ask that each of you close your eyes – standing, sitting or kneeling, it does not matter to me – and then try to reach inside yourself, and touch this part of yourself."

Castor, Kara and Harry each adopted the kneeling meditative pose instantly – though they knew how to touch the Force, they each still knew that meditation was important, and this would count towered their daily meditations. Draco Malfoy contented himself with standing and closing his eyes. Hermione and Ron sat down.

Harry began meditating, but he felt something... off. He frowned, and decided to ignore that for now. Around him, he could sense each of his fellow first-years beginning to contact the power within themselves, and although none of them managed to do so perfectly, all of them managed something; it was intriguing, feeling these first faltering steps into becoming Jedi.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dumbledore stood, and one by one every student came out of their meditation. Even Malfoy seemed to have gained something from it. The old professor smiled at the assembled group, directing his gaze at each of them in turn.

"You are to each take one of these," Dumbledore said, holding out a small metal device that Hary, Castor and Kara recognised immediately. "They are called Holocrons. Your homework will be to study them intently, and no, I'm not telling you how to use them. That's the first test."

He smiled at the assembled (and hopefully, somewhat more enlightened) crowd of students. "You have each taken the first step into a larger world – each of you has taken the first step to becoming Jedi Knights," he said proudly to them. "It will be an honour to be your guide in this regard."

The word "Jedi" had yet to be used in the class, and clearly some of the students were somewhat confused. What was a Jedi?

"If you are wondering what a Jedi is, then that knowledge is part of what you will learn from your holocron," Dumbledore said, almost as if reading the class' mind. "Now - class dismissed."

* * *

><p>Dumbledore took Harry aside at the end of the lesson, as everyone left. Waving to his friends to leave without him, Harry turned to the old Jedi and smiled at him, and Dumbledore smiled back.<p>

"What did you think?" Dumbledore asked. "Is this a good idea?"

"I think it's a brilliant idea," Harry replied – and he truly did. Despite the breaking of the Code, this method of teaching promised to be an excellent one and would almost certainly lead to a new Jedi Order here. "And I think once they're trained, they can train others- an entire Jedi Order could come of this."

"Exactly," Dumbledore smiled. "And I think the holocrons should contain enough information for each of them to become at least the equal of the current crop of Jedi," he added.

"Where did you get these holocrons from, anyway?" Harry asked.

"They're relics from an older era of Jedi," Dumbledore explained. "Back before age limits or rules against attachment. I felt it was best, given what we are dealing with."

"Doesn't tell me who gave you them," Harry pointed out.

"Well so it doesn't," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye.

Harry nodded, accepting that Dumbledore didn't wish to tell him, although a part of him was still wrestling slightly with that part of himself that insisted on following the Code of the Jedi he had grown up with.

"I know it is against the Code," Dumbledore added, noticing Harry looking a little uncertain, "but I feel the potential benefits of having a Jedi Order in this universe to help defend mankind – not just wizardkind but all of mankind – to become better, and to be better defended."

"Better defended against what, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Against the darkness that is coming," Dumbledore replied mysteriously.

Harry wasn't entirely pleased with the vagueness of this but he was pleased to realise that he understood the basics of Dumbledore's reasoning for creating this Jedi Order, and it made sense. The two of them stood in silence for a moment.

"Now run along Harry," Dumbledore added.

Harry bowed to his new teacher, and left, still pondering Dumbledore's comments about 'the Darkness'. What did it mean? Was something coming that he wasn't aware of?

Was that why he had been made to return? 


	10. Chapter 10

10

Time had passed, eventually, as Time had a tendency of doing. Harry had settled into life at Hogwarts, becoming more ingrained in its ways, its secrets and its routines, as had his friends. To Harry's joy if not his surprise, the Jedi Academy Dumbledore had started seemed to be working wonders for the students. So much so that Neville Longbottom had stopped stammering, Seamus Finnigan had gained sufficient patience to not blow up - well, everything, and even Draco Malfoy's large ego had shrunk - a fraction.

Right now, Harry was meditating. He liked meditating. It was a bit more relaxing than regular sleep, and in some ways more helpful. He could occasionally see glimpses of the future when meditating. Not that it ever helped him much, and he was always careful about precisely how literally he took the visions he had, but it was nice to know the Force was with him to that degree.

He fell deeper into the meditation, and let his mind wander the castle. He saw Hermione and Ron practicing their lightsaber duelling downstairs, and he unconsciously egged them on, pleased at their progress. Ron and Hermione had come a long way now; nowhere near the standards that traditionalist Jedi would have held themselves to at their age, but they were still fairly good.

As he continued on his mental wanderings, Harry noticed the petulant little brat Malfoy from Slytherin, wandering around like a fool. The boy was, even after Jedi training, still elitist and prideful, but rather than dislike him, all Harry felt for him was pity – pity that a mind was wasted like it was. He seemed to be restless for some reason, but Harry neither knew nor cared why at this time - this would prove to be a mistake, in future, but Harry couldn't know that now.

And then, as his mind wandered some more, he saw something he could honestly say he did not expect. Professor Quirrell was running about on the third floor – in the forbidden corridor?

'How strange,' Harry thought. What reason did he have to be down there? Harry pushed himself deeper, searching out the reason behind this odd behaviour, and found himself dumbfounded by what he sensed. The man was shrouded by some kind of magical concealment, and it took a couple of minutes for Harry to push past it, but when he did he was glad he had.

There was another presence with Quirrell in the corridor. An evil one for certain. A familiar one as well - it felt like an old pain returning to Harry's attention after years. This presence stank of the Dark Side. What was it?

After a long moment of denial, Harry realised who it must be. He blanched and quickly retreated from the meditation, eyes snapping open and breath coming in quick starts. He felt more terrified than he should have done but, from what he knew of his foe, he had a right to be.

Quirrell was nothing more than a host, a host for the most evil being - he didn't really have the right to be called a man - who had ever lived in this reality…

The Dark Lord Voldemort.

* * *

><p>As soon as he had put a name to the feeling, Harry had bolted down the stairs to the dormitory, where his friends were still practicing their duelling. Sweat covered his face and his expression was one of extreme panic, quite unlike his usually serene demeanour. Ron and Hermione didn't notice him at first. The borrowed training lightsaber's they wielded flashed, blocking the simple spells that Castor was managing to shoot at them, while Kara stood by and watched appreciatively.<p>

Normally, Harry would have found time to feel pride at their progress, but there was no time; he knew that there was no time. They had to move quickly.

"Castor, Kara, Voldemort is in the school!" he was yelling, manically. Looking at their friend in shock, the two trainees deactivated their sabres, and Castor and Ron ran over to Harry.

"Calm down, Harry!" said Ron, holding him steady. He'd never seen Harry panicking before, the young Jedi who was usually such a pillar of calm. But now he was _trembling_ almost... "What's wrong?"

"Voldemort is in the school," Harry repeated, slowly this time. "The third floor, forbidden corridor…"

Ron looked terrified, his eyes widening to windows of terror on his face. Hermione didn't exactly looked enthused either. Kara looked less worried, but still pretty concerned. Castor however, was confused.

"What?" the young Jedi said, looking perplexed. "Isn't that the dark wizard you defeated when you were a baby?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed, nodding quickly.

"But he's dead," Castor pointed out, perplexed. "You killed him somehow."

"He _is_ here, Castor," Harry insisted, looking at his friend with what he hoped was convincing sincerity. Ron moaned in shock. "I don't know how, but he is. He's possessing Professor Quirrell somehow."

"Like a ghost?" Hermione asked, frowning. She had heard of possession but never of this sort.

"I don't know!" Harry said, a note of desperation in his tone now. Kara was looking at him with concern in her eyes and right now Harry couldn't blame her. She had never seen Harry this worried. None of them had. But he _had_ to worry!

"Does it matter?" Ron said, his voice trembling. "What are we gonna do?"

"What does he want in Hogwarts?" Castor asked, ignoring Ron's question. The young Jedi initiate was confused by this turn of events. "What could possibly be here that he wants?"

Harry shook his head – he couldn't tell, although whatever it was it had to be something powerful. Kara looked at Harry for a moment, studying the worry on his face, and then her face took on a resolute expression.

"Come on," she said, simply. "Let's go stop him!"

This garnered an immediate reaction from Ron, who stared at her as she she had just gone insane.

"Are you brain dead?" he yelled. Ignoring the harsh looks from the others, he went on. "This is You-Know-Who we're talking about! He's the single most powerful wizard in the bloody world, apart from Dumbledore!"

"Relax, Ron," said Hermione soothingly, trying to calm him down. "Dumbledore's still here, isn't he? We can get him –"

But Harry was shaking his head – the Force told him the old wizard was nowhere in the castle. "He isn't here," the young Jedi reported grimly. "I can't sense him."

"You-Know-Who's here, and Dumbledore isn't?" said Ron faintly, his voice barely more than a whisper. The red head was now close to panicking himself. He started shaking his head, eyes trying to get even wider with fear, and in that moment Harry glimpsed Voldemort's strength - everyone feared him. It was why they referred to him as You-Know-Who. He calmed himself, focusing on his training and trying to force his own panic down.

"We can stop him," said Castor, taking his sabre out of his robes with a resolute expression. "We can beat him."

Harry nodded, solemnly. His fear had subsided, and now there was only the him knowledge of what they had to do - or try to do.

"We've no choice," he said after a moment, looking at Ron and putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Whatever he wants, it must be important. He can't be allowed to get it."

"I'm in," Hermione put in, lightsaber inactive in her hand.

Ron put his head in his hands, and Harry sensed him wrestling with his fear and worry. He and the others waited for the young man to say something.

"I guess I haven't got a choice," he said at last, looking up with a worried quirk of the lips that was desperately trying to be a smile. "Someone's got to be the voice of pessimism."

Harry grinned at him, then grabbed his lightsaber and Hermione's.

"If we are going into battle," he said evenly, as he adjusted the two devices' settings, "you'll need to be ready." Finished, he handed them their weapons. "Today's the day you fight evil as Jedi."

Ron and Hermione looked at their newly empowered weapons with apprehension, and exchanged glances. Then they nodded as one. Smiling, Harry gestured for everyone to follow him, and the little group of trainee Jedi set off.

* * *

><p>After a while of dodging Filch the Caretaker and the various prefects out on patrol, the little group entered the forbidden corridor, as stealthily as they could. It was eerily quiet this night, almost as if the castle itself knew what was going to happen. Harry didn't like it - there was a sense of foreboding in the air.<p>

"Not a fan of the decor," Castor quipped as they walked down the corridor, although the fact that the place was pretty unpleasant looking in a creepy, beware-ye-who-enter-here kind of way took the edge out of the boy's humour.

After a brisk walk down the corridor, they reached a door - it was locked, but Hermione used an unlocking charm which opened the door in no time…

…and also had the side effect of revealing a giant, dark brown, fierce looking three headed dog, sleeping near a trap door.

"Eep," Ron said at the sight of it - Hermione elbowed him in the stomach to shut him up, but the dog didn't react. Harry noticed a harp playing on it's own (magic, he reminded himself with a wry grin) in the corner, which seemed to be keeping the dog asleep, but the young Jedi didn't think it would be playing for long, and he didn't want to take any chances.

"Come on," he said to the others. "Down the trap door."

Using the Force, he lifted the door, and the other's jumped down one by one. Harry kept his eye on the dog, but the harp was still playing. Ron was the last to go before Harry, but the harp stopped just as the redhead jumped. Harry cursed silently, and used the Force to hold the door up - the dog was just starting to wake up when he jumped.

He fell through a ragged hole cut in plant life of some variety - something that looked like vines although he couldn't tell for certain - and landed on his back, hard. Winded, he took a moment to get back up.

Looking around slowly, he found himself on a stone floor. Hermione had her lightsaber (an azure-bladed training sabre Harry had lent her) active and out, as did Castor (who wielded the red blade he had taken from the dark assassin) and Ron (who wielded a blue training blade he had borrowed from Castor). Kara was rubbing her head – evidently she had fallen on it. She was only now taking her sabre out, and igniting the leaf green weapon. All the young Jedi were clearly more than a little edgy - as if Voldemort were simply going to pop his head out and strike.

"What is that stuff?" Harry asked, pointing at the vines above them.

"Devil's Snare," said Castor, before Hermione could respond. "There's a rhyme and everything, apparently."

"What?" Harry asked, puzzled by this.

"Devils snare," Castor repeated. "A particularly nasty plant, from the looks of it. Hermione cut through it, and freed the lot of us. And recited poetry, too," the Jedi trainee added in an undertone. Hermione glared at him but Castor shrugged.

Harry nodded, not really listening. Voldemort was up ahead, he could sense him… it felt like sickness in the Force. Worse still, he could almost hear the voice of the Dark Lord…

_"Quickly fool, work it out!"_

Harry figured that the 'fool' was Professor Quirrell, but work out what? What was the Dark Lord doing in Hogwarts? The question of how he could hear the words of a Dark Lord didn't occur to him.

"Come on," he said to the others, moving forward, "we've got to hurry."

The next room they entered was full of what appeared at first to be hundreds of birds - then Harry realised that actually they were flying keys (magic, Harry, he told himself). It took them only a moment to work out which key must fit the door, and Harry used the Force to locate and grab it.

The next room, however, would not be so simple. In fact, when they arrived in the room, which was filled with giant statues, it looked almost for a moment as if they were going to be faced with…

"A chessboard!" said Ron, enthused for the first time since they had set off.

"A chessboard?" repeated Castor, slightly bemused, looking at the checkered floor confusedly.

"A big chessboard," pointed out Hermione, obviously.

"That's what it is!" Ron confirmed, looking at the giant statues that _must_ have been pieces. "A giant chessboard! This is brilliant! I'd love to have a game on this…"

"We don't have time for this," said Harry, impetuousness taking hold of him for the first time he could remember in his life – perhaps some kind of reaction to an irrational (well, maybe not _that_ irrational) fear of Voldemort. "We've got to stop Voldemort! Follow me!"

He ran across the giant board, past the black pieces, but as he approached the other side, the white pawns drew their swords, barring the path. Undeterred, and grimly setting his jaw, Harry drew upon the Force and jumped over the row of pieces - which only made things worse, as they seemed to start moving of their own accord towards the centre of the board - and the other young Jedi. Harry heard the sound of lightsabers igniting, and turned to see how the others were doing.

Not well, was the answer.

The Chess pieces had surrounded them, weapons drawn, advancing. The Jedi had their lightsabers out, and looked as ready for action as Harry had come to expect from his friends, but they probably couldn't hold out for long. Harry's actions had apparently incited the pieces to attack. Harry, feeling guilty, felt the need to go help his friends - but then, Voldemort and whatever he was planning was up ahead. He couldn't decide!

"Go, Harry!" yelled Castor, seeing his friend torn by indecision. "We can handle these!"

Harry didn't want to leave his friends, and made to jump back, but Castor was already jumping over a bunch of pieces and slicing them up, and the others were faring well enough, jumping and cutting. It was a close run thing, but then Harry realised - he was Jedi, and he had his duty.

"I'll come back!" he yelled to the group, before running. Castor nooded, but Harry was already gone, and there were enemies to fight.

* * *

><p>Harry ran into a dark room, with purple fire blocking his way forward – magical fire, from the looks and colour of it. He found a note that explained the puzzle – remarkably logical indeed. However, he had no time to work it out intellectually; whatever Voldemort was after, he could not be allowed to get it, and that meant Harry had to put his trust in the Force.<p>

Harry closed his eyes, and reached out with his feelings towards the bottles, searching for an answer within the Force. After a moment, the Force 'spoke' to him, and he opened his eyes, seeking out the bottle it had said to drink from.

He drank.

For a long moment, nothing happened, and eventually, he plucked up the courage to face the fire – and walk right through it, eyes closed the whole way. Not an experience he relished, but he went forward nonetheless. When he opened his eyes, there was a door, and when he opened the door, there was a room - almost like an amphitheatre, but with no audience. At the bottom of the stairs leading to the centre of this amphitheatre stood Professor Quirrell: the erstwhile teacher was standing in front of what appeared to be an ornate mirror, apparently talking to himself.

"Face me, Voldemort!" Harry called out, his voice ringing in the amphitheatre. Quirrell turned on his heel at the sound, and looked at Harry in dismay and shock, which quickly turned to anger.

"You!" he called, obviously disconcerted by the boy's presence here at this crucial time. "How did you -?"

"None of your business, Quirrell," said Harry, allowing a form of righteous fury to enter him - he was here to do the work of Jedi. "Face me like a man, Dark Lord!" he challenged. From what he knew of possessions, he expected Quirrell to simply channel Voldemort. Instead the man continued to glare at him.

_"A man?"_ a cold, high voice spoke, softly and yet loudly enough to fill the room. The sound of that voice recalled some of Harry's worst nightmares, dreams he had tried so very hard to forget. Quirrell's mouth stayed resolutely closed throughout. _"But I am not a man, Harry Potter. You saw to that. Still, if you wish to face me, then so be it…"_

Quirrell, obviously unnerved by this turn of events, and probably unnerved by the dark humour the voice possessed (Harry certainly was!) unravelled his turban slowly, eyes locked on Harry as if expecting him to make a move, and, barely understanding why, Harry looked at the mirror to see what horror would be revealed.

And it was a horror indeed.

A face was underneath the turban, protruding from Quirrell's skull like some kind of horrific mutation, though Harry had never heard of a mutation like this. The face had a slit like nose, scarlet eyes, and a expression that could quite possibly be described as a scowl. That is, if scowls had the ability to chill the souls of the people they were directed at; Harry certainly felt himself go cold at the sight.

_"Harry Potter,"_ the face said, it's voice betraying something of a wry amusement. _"We meet again."_

"Yes," Harry said, his training forcing his fear away, albeit with _great_ difficulty. "Prepare to meet your end, Dark Lord."

_"_My_ end?"_ Voldemort's face said, with mocking laughter in his tone. _"_You_ are the one who will die here, Harry Potter, _if_ I feel merciful."_

"What are you?" Harry said in horror. He had encountered ghosts before, but they had just felt strange - this was like some terrible perversion of nature.

_"Less than spirit, less than ghost, but I am alive,"_ the Dark Lord sneered from the back of Quirrell's skull. _"I survive by living in the bodies of others, a mere parasite. But soon I shall gain a new body, and the wizarding world will tremble before me again!"_

He was insane. Clearly whatever had happened to him had driven him beyond reason, although Harry supposed he couldn't blame the creature - the young Jedi figured he probably couldn't have kept his sanity in such a state.

Voldemort seemed to grow thoughtful, his expression growing less harsh. _"But before I destroy you, boy… tell me what you see in this mirror. Do this I promise your death will be swift…"_

Harry stared at him for a moment, confused - the mirror? It was a pretty thing no doubt, but what did it have to do with what Voldemort was doing down here? It was strange. However, Harry realised that every second he could buy down here was a second that he could use to formulate a plan - Quirrell/Voldemort would be more powerful with magic than Harry, but Harry had his lightsaber, a weapon no teacher here save Dumbledore could know about and therefore not one they could counter. He hoped.

Quelling his fear, Harry nodded in assent of Voldemort's request, and then looked directly at the mirror. Nothing too remarkable happened at first, not that he expected it to - the mirror simply showed him his own reflection. Then he saw the image change. The reflection of Harry seemed to grow older before the boy's eyes, and the Jedi robes it wore became more ornate and personalised. The reflection grew a beard, and he drew and ignited a lightsaber that shone emerald green…

Two other people appeared behind him. Harry recognised them just barely as Castor and Kara. Castor had a ginger beard, and his bright ginger hair had toned down a bit. He wore darker robes than mirror-Harry, and his lightsaber, when he clicked it on, was brilliant ultramarine blue. Kara, whose face had become sharper and more refined, was shorter than the other two, and her drawn sabre was now sunshine yellow.

Harry stared at this for a moment, and realised that this mirror was showing him what he wanted to see… what he wanted to happen. What a remarkable mirror - magic was truly impressive.

_"Well?"_ Voldemort snapped impatiently. Harry blinked, and looked at the Dark Lord's face, remembering his peril. The mirror was more than a little distracting. It was curious - clearly the Dark Wizard was expecting something from the mirror, and almost certainly something more than an image of his desires.

"I see me and my friends," he said simply, telling the truth. "We're older."

Voldemort seemed to be shocked at this revelation, though Harry didn't know why. _"Of course,"_ the Dark Wizard finally muttered. _"He doesn't know about the stone."_

"Then why did he come down here, Master?" asked Quirrell, obviously confused by this turn of events.

"Because I wanted to stop you," said Harry, determination filling his voice. He let himself feel the Force. He felt calm, relaxed, but in control.

_"If you know nothing of the stone,"_ Voldemort said coldly, _"Then you are nothing but an irrelevancy. Kill the boy!"_ he added harshly to Quirrell. _"He will interfere in my plans no more!"_

Quirrell jumped at Harry in an instant, but Harry, a Jedi Padawan with training in the art of lightsaber combat, was ready. His lightsaber was in his hand in an instant, an as Quirrell leapt the Jedi sidestepped him and cut hid arm off as he passed, before rolling down the steps and getting to his feet, now standing between Quirrell and the mirror.

Quirrell looked at his arm in shock and horror, and turned to Harry, not quote believing what had just happened.

"How?" he said, amazed. "How did you…?"

_"It matters not!"_ Voldemort yelled. _"Kill the boy now!"_

Quirrell raised his remaining arm to curse Harry, but Harry was ready; now he knew that Voldemort had no defence for the lightsaber, he ran forward and lashed out with his lightsaber at the former teacher…

Quirrell's two halves fell away from one another, and Harry stared at them in shock. He deactivated his lightsaber on reflex, and considered what he had just done - he had taken a life. It was a shame. The man had seemed nice, although there was no way of telling whether he had been forced to be Voldemort's vessel or otherwise. However, evil had to be fought, and the Jedi did not shirk from their duty.

The speed at which he had taken down the evil one surprised him a little, but he was just glad he'd survived; he had not expected to. After all, this was this universes equivalent to a Sith Lord. Monstrous evil beyond measure, beyond redemption, and powerful enough to be feared a decade after his defeat.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief at his victory, but suddenly he felt a queasy sensation in the Force, and his sigh quickly turned into a scream as what appeared to be… the spirit of Voldemort came out of the corpse of Quirrell and flew straight through him…

* * *

><p>When he awoke, a dull ache still in his chest, his first thought was for his friends. "Castor, Kara -!" he yelled out.<p>

"They are alright," said an old but familiar voice. "We managed to save them before any of them were seriously injured."

"Good this is," came another voice. "Brave, Castorabusallio and Kara are."

Harry sat straight up, and couldn't help but feel relief at the sight of the two figures. Master Yoda and Professor Dumbledore sat side by side on the chairs the hospital wing provided, both in Jedi robes. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, which was probably a good thing under the circumstances.

"Master Yoda!" said Harry, a smile on his face at the sight of his old Master.

"Good it is to see you, Harry," the little green Jedi said. "You friends, safe they all are."

Hearing this, Harry was reminded about his bout of code-breaking, "I can explain about Hermione and Ron, Master, they –"

"Explained, Dumbledore has," said the venerable Jedi Master. He looked and sounded less angry than he could have done. "Talk of that in a few moments, we will. Right now, bad news I have, concerning your former mentor, Qui-Gon Jinn."

"What about Master Qui-Gon?" asked Harry, although from the grim tone in Yoda's voice and his own sinking feeling, he knew full well what the answer would be.

"Killed, he was, some time ago, by a Sith Lord," Yoda replied grimly, his ears downcast and his face glum, "on his mission to Naboo. Neither he, nor Obi-Wan Kenobi, will join you here."

Harry nodded, saddened greatly by this. But Master Qui-Gon was one with the Force now. The fact that Obi-Wan would not be joining him here was something of a blow though.

"Why can't Obi-Wan join me?" he asked, confused.

"A Padawan, he has taken," Yoda said, tapping Harry with his gimer stick. "An important task this is to any Jedi Knight. Be happy for him, you should."

"I am, Master," Harry assured him. And he was, as well; Obi-Wan was a wise Jedi. Harry was certain whoever his Padawan was, they would benefit greatly from that wisdom. Yoda shifted slightly in his seat, frowning somewhat.

"Told me, Dumbledore has, of your duel with two Dark Jedi," continued Yoda, leaning forward slightly. "And of the death of Master Araphis."

Harry bowed his head, and Yoda sighed. "Many Jedi, lost have been, and more will be in future," the diminuitive Master told Harry. "One with the Force, Master Araphis is. More important now is that survived, you and your friends did. Brave you were… as were the children Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley."

"Master," Harry began, but Yoda tapped his stick on the chair and cut him off.

"A clear breach of the code this action is," Yoda said, his expression grim. "Raised by the code you were. To see you disregard it, troublesome it is. Care about the code, you should, always. And yet, care you did not show, when training of these two young ones you began." The venerable Master never raised his voice as he admonished the young Jedi, which made it all the worse to hear.

Harry looked at Dumbledore, whose face remained impassive, then back to Yoda, who caught the look. He looked up at Dumbledore, and then smiled.

"Decided I have, that the two children are to be trained, as you intended them to be," he said, which surprised Harry to no end. "Concerned am I about your actions, but no matter. Too far into their training, they are. Abandon them now, and the dark side, fester in them it may."

Harry nodded, accepting the old Master's judgement. Yoda smiled then.

"Besides, poor reward for aiding you, it would be, to stop now," Yoda said. "Trained they will be."

A moment passed, where Harry looked from Dumbledore to Yoda, then back to Dumbledore.

"Master," Harry said to the old Headmaster, "have you...?"

"Told me he has, about his training of more Jedi," Yoda said, neutrally. A moment of silence passed.

"And?" Harry asked, bewildered that more admonishments about the code were not immediately forthcoming.

"A feeling I have," the little green Jedi said slowly, "that serve the Jedi here the system from Coruscant will not." He exchanged glances with Dumbledore, who smirked ever so slightly. "A new system the Jedi Order must adopt here, if to grow it is. A system like the one that created, Jedi Master Dumbledore has."

"You mean you aren't stopping the Jedi training here?" Harry said, almost not daring to believe it.

"Too staid the Jedi have become," Yoda said, his face oddly serious considering the good news he was delivering. "Sense I do a great darkness - the death of Qui-Gon, only the beginning it is. If to survive the Jedi are, needed will this new Jedi Academy be. Rely upon you to learn well, I do, Padawan Potter."

Harry bowed his head respectfully. "I swear it Master."

"The others you have begun training, and the younglings Voraainsar and Vincennes, continue their training in Dumbledore's academy they will," Yoda said. Harry felt a twinge - he had begun their training. Surely he should end it? But Yoda once again poked him with the gimer stick. "Too young you are to train others, when there is much learning _you_ must still do!"

"I understand, Master," Harry said with a nod. "Are we coming back home this summer?" he added with some curiosity. "Me, Castor and Kara, that is?"

"No," said Yoda, smiling softly. "Stay here and test Dumbledore's skills as a teacher in the ways of the Force, you will." The little green Master smiled slightly mischievously. "Put you up, Dumbledore will, or so he has said."

Harry looked to Dumbledore, who was smiling as well.

"I hope you don't mind staying in school, Harry," said Dumbledore softly.

"Mind?" said Harry, grinning. "I'd love to!"

Dumbledore smiled at him, radiantly.

"There is no need for you to pack up your things then," he said. "See you at the leaving feast."

"Good luck I wish you, Harry," Yoda said to him, and then he too hobbled out.

Harry sat back in his bed, and grinned. Whatever he had thought before, he was now one of the most content Jedi in existence.

* * *

><p>In another universe, on the planet Coruscant, on the balcony of one of millions of buildings on this planet, Darth Sidious planned and plotted, with his newest apprentice Darth Tyranus - otherwise known as Count Dooku of Serenno. Dooku had been a Jedi knight, and a Master, but he had grown disillusioned with the order, especially after the death of Qui-Gon Jinn, and had eventually decided to leave. He had toyed with finding Sidious, and killing him, but instead, Sidious found him, and convinced him that they were not that different after all.<p>

Sidious had sensed the beginning of the training of Harry Potter's friends from the school "Hogwarts". He had in fact sensed all of the trainee's beginnings, but felt a certain pain would be caused if he turned one of the two the Jedi Youngling was close to. And, as he kept remembering, having multiple plans in action was always a good sign. Besides, weakening the nascent Jedi offshoot in that universe before it became a real problem would definitely help his later "wipe out all the Jedi" plans.

The Sith had decided, after remote probing their minds, that of the two young ones from that world closest to Potter, that the best choice to be turned to the Dark Side was Hermione Granger. He had been surprised by this: the Weasley boy was wilful, headstrong, and had a large amount of insecurity regarding his abilities and role in life, all things which would make him an adequate - almost too easy - choice. The trouble being that he was still loyal to his friends to a great degree, and though there was anger there, he also possessed a changeable nature, and great (or greatly sickening) purity of heart. His turning would, in short, be difficult, dangerous, and possibly not even permanent should it succeed, since the boy was also possesed of that worst enemy of the Dark Side - guilt. The boy reeked of it every time he made a decision that could turn him to the Dark Side.

Hermione Granger, on the other hand, while loyal to a great degree as well, was also a keen seeker of knowledge, and she had something of an arrogant streak, as well as a frustration with those that she considered of inferior intellect. All of this, if turned to the right purpose, nurtured and grown into a true hatred of the weak, could make her a powerful Sith. Knowledge was power, and power was the sole motivation of a Sith Lord's life. Her turning would be slow, it would be difficult, it would be arduous. She would have to be shown knowledge, and it would take torture and cruelty and hatred to make her into anything resembling the sort of apprentice Sidious could use - but he liked a challenge, and once turned, she would never go back.

"My Master, what are your orders?" Tyranus asked, bowing in obeisance. Sidious mulled for a moment, confirming in his head that he had chosen wisely. The Darkness told him yes.

"I need you to bring me the girl Hermione Granger," the Sith Lord said in a sibilant whisper. "She will be a great asset."

"I shall set off immediately, my Master," said Tyranus with a bow, and Count Dooku of Serenno swept through the door, back into the building, leaving his Master alone. Sidious smiled as Tyranus left. Through power he would gain victory, as the Sith code said. Victory would soon be his, he sensed. Even if Tyranus failed, Sidious always had a backup. One way or another, he would succeed. 


	11. Chapter 11

11

Hermione was meditating in her living room, dressed in full Jedi robes with her training lightsaber clipped to her belt. Her parents were out at the moment, which meant that she could meditate in peace - they didn't stop her or anything, at least not intentionally - in fact, they were happy enough thinking that meditation was "just one of those magic things". But they still kept asking her if she wanted anything, or tried to talk to her, and it could get frustrating. Still, she lived with it.

She enjoyed meditating. Harry had taught her how to meditate, during the last year when she trained with him, and then the lessons that Dumbledore taught the student Jedi had helped her learn more about meditation and the way one could use it to tap into the Force. She agreed with Harry's assessment that it was actually quite relaxing; a sort of way of getting rid of all those little annoyances that accumulated through the day, and focusing one's mind.

_Knock, knock._

She opened her eyes at the sharp sound which shot across her meditation. The sound of someone politely but firmly rapping at the front door was hardly conducive to proper meditative practice. She sighed softly, and closed her eyes, trying to meditate some more. Her parents had always told her not to answer the door when they weren't there, so she ignored it - the person would probably go away in a minute and she would hopefully be left in peace.

_Knock, knock._

She sighed again. For whatever reason, the visitor wasn't getting the message of "no one home". Oh well, she'd done plenty of meditation to be getting along with. She got up, went to the front door, and opened it.

"Yes?" she said, before seeing who it was.

He didn't look like anyone from around these parts - he was a tall man in a black cloak. He had short silver hair, a silver beard and he must have been something like seventy years old, give or take, though his body language was that of a younger, more physically fit man. He was standing outside her door, smiling politely at her. He didn't exactly look like a salesman, but Hermione was suspicious anyway. Something about him felt… really odd.

"Ah, hello," he said, his voice regal, and posh, cultured and at the same time, somewhat alien, though she couldn't tell how she knew that. "My name is Count Dooku. I have been sent to escort you to where you will be trained."

All sorts of warning bells were going off in Hermione's head - escort her to where she would be trained? But that was Hogwarts - and he didn't look like any staff member. Although there was the possibility that he was the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but she quickly dismissed that.

"I don't know you, so I probably shouldn't go anywhere with you," she said cooly. She moved her spare hand as subtly as she could toward her lightsaber, which "And I doubt you have anything to do with my training."

Dooku's face showed a flash of anger, and that was when Hermione knew he wasn't a teacher or anything to do with her training - and then to Hermione's surprise, he smiled, a cold thing that made her just a little bit afraid.

"You're sharp," he commented, strangely enough reminding her of Professor Flitwick complimenting her on an impressive bit of wand-work in Charms, but without the warm fuzzy feeling of being right. "Unfortunately, that means that you must now learn the lesson of what happens to sharp children who speak out of turn."

He held his hand out, and before Hermione could react or even think, something very like lightning flew from his fingers and struck her. She flew backwards, and rammed into the hallway wall, where after a split second of agony she thankfully lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>Dooku left a letter on the desk in the hallway – part of the cover story behind the girl's disappearance was that she was off with friends, who had come visiting. The letter would assuage the parents concerns for a short while, and by the time they realised what had happened the girl would have begun the long, slow journey into the darkness.<p>

He picked the girl up using the Force. She was indeed sharp and intelligent, assets that would serve her well in the future. She would be a powerful asset to the Sith's cause, just as his Master had foreseen – but a powerful asset to _Dooku_, not to Sidious. Treachery is the way of the Sith, and Dooku had been both betrayed and betrayer in his time, so he knew full well how to play the game of deceit.

He walked with the girl to the local conveyance – an 'automobile' - that he had picked up and had parked a little way down the road. _'Very odd method of conveyance'_, he had thought after driving it around for a while,_ 'though it is quite relaxing.'_ It required more concentration than a speeder did, because it lacked certain technologies that one was normally accustomed to.

Dooku placed the girl in the back seat of his automobile, where she lay unconscious. Hopefully she wouldn't be too concussed - however, saying that, if she lost her memory that would make her an even finer asset, because she would have lost any ties to this place and Dooku could lie to her and tell her she had always been as she was; servant, apprentice, tool. Ah, the possibilities. Dooku shook his head, trying not to get his hopes up too much. Focus on returning the girl to his universe first, and then he could worry about everything else.

"Excuse me," a polite voice spoke from behind him, the accent not unlike his own but without the distinctive Coruscanti tinge.

Dooku turned to face the speaker, a tall, intelligent looking man with long silver hair and a longer silver beard. This man was standing with his hands folded behind his back, watching Dooku intently as though he were a fish in a tank, his blue eyes shining with a keen wit. Behind him, a young man with red hair was already drawing out a lightsaber hilt, and another three children, one girl with blond hair, and two boys (another with red hair and one with jet black) were running up to join them.

"And you would be?" asked Dooku, politely, seeking to keep the conversation amiable for the moment. He already knew that they were Jedi from the way they felt in the Force, and the children looked delightfully worried - especially the black haired boy, who seemed to recognise him. Ah, the joys of being famous.

"Professor Albus Dumbledore," said the silver-haired man, equally amiable. "May I ask who you are, and what you are doing with Miss Granger?"

Dooku narrowed his eyes at the man. Ah, this was the point upon which the conversation would have to become unpleasant, which was a shame. He had been hoping for a quiet exit, plus the fact that this man seemed quite civilised, even considering the fact that he was a resident of this backwater.

"I am Count Dooku of Serenno," he replied, haughtily. "I regret to inform you that it is none of your business what I am doing with 'Miss Granger'."

"I beg to differ," Dumbledore said, his voice cooling a fraction. "I sincerely doubt Miss Granger's parents would approve of the fact that she is being kidnapped."

"Kidnapped is such an ugly word," Dooku said, flashing a grin like a predator. "I prefer to think of it as 'recruitment'." He stopped smiling, and, taking his lightsaber out, he took a battle stance. "Other than that, there is nothing you need to know. Kindly get out of my way."

Dumbledore said nothing, but calmly drew his own lightsaber out and ignited it. A brilliant blue blade shot out of the hilt. Dooku didn't immediately recognise the stance the man was in, but in his arrogance, the Count of Serenno believed this was simply an example of lax fighting skills. Dooku gave the man a quick salute with his own blade, a Mark of respect to his foe, and they began circling one another. The younger ones all drew lightsabers of their own, but the one called Dumbledore held out his left hand to stop them.

"You should stay back," he said calmly, his eyes never leaving Dooku. "I will deal with this 'Dooku.'"

This struck the wrong nerve in the Count of Serenno. "Deal with me?" Dooku repeated, outraged. "_Deal_ with me? I am Count Dooku of Serenno, and it would take someone of far more prolific skill and power to _deal_ with me!"

Before Dumbledore could say anything in reply to the tirade, Dooku, letting his outrage flood his senses, sent a bolt of Force Lightning at him, stronger than the one that had used on Hermione, and the headmaster of Hogwarts was sent flying, unprepared for the attack. Calming himself down, Dooku permitted himself a smile, and looked at the assembled younger Jedi, all of whom looked horrified.

* * *

><p>Harry watched in horror as Dumbledore was thrown backwards by Count Dooku's Force attack - lightning? That was something Harry had never seen!<p>

He knew who Dooku was of course – a prominent Jedi Master, well known for training Qui-Gon and dealing with many situations over the years, some of which Harry had been told about by Qui-Gon and many of which were required reading in the Temple. The question being, why now was he kidnapping Hermione and attacking Dumbledore? What motivated this attack?

It was a riddle. Harry didn't care about riddles. What he cared about was the fact that Dooku would soon turn his attention to the younger Jedi – so he quickly snapped his lightsaber on and up, in one of the Soresu stances Obi-Wan had taught him during his days at the Jedi Temple. Dooku, at the sound of the sabres igniting, turned to the younger Jedi and smiled.

"If your Master there could not stop me, you can't," he said, sounding incredibly reasonable as he did so, "so I wouldn't even try."

"Why are you doing this?" Harry asked, almost yelling. "You're a Jedi!"

_"Was_ a Jedi," Dooku corrected the young apprentice. "I walk a different path, now."

Behind Harry, Kara ignited her own sabre, as did Ron. They both looked ready for action, and Harry was grateful for their presence, but he honestly doubted they could win. Dooku took a stance in his classic Makashi form, and inclined his head.

"Pace yourselves," Harry told his two friends. "And be careful."

After a moment, led by Harry, the three young Jedi charged at Dooku, pacing themselves enough to not get defeated instantly. Castor, watching the display, tended to Dumbledore, who was groaning, stunned for the moment.

Kara went into her attack, swinging her sabre for the Count's head – he neatly blocked this, but she sent another series of powerful swings his way – only for him to block each and every one of them. Her attacks were lumbering Shii-Cho and it was child's play for Dooku to block every single blow repeatedly. Harry tried to hit him on his unguarded side, only he never seemed to have one – always moving his sword into the perfect position to block any and all strikes. Harry tried every trick he knew, but none of them worked. Ron, only knowing the very basics of Form I lightsaber fighting, only got a handful of attacks in before Dooku first destroyed his weapon with a quick flick of the wrist, then, in the same move as a parry that sent Harry off balance, scorched Ron's arm. As the boy screamed, Dooku Force-pushed him, sending him flying across the street and landing in a heap.

Harry gritted his teeth, and continued fighting, while Kara remained unflappable; her own attacks did little better, and Harry's barely got the Count's attention. The young Jedi swung his blade high, but Dooku caught it with his own and sent it into Kara's. The two of them were sent stumbling away, and Dooku grinned at their shoddy swordsmanship.

"Change of tactic," Harry muttered to Kara. "Circle him." And the two jumped forward again, orbiting Dooku at different points, trying to keep him off balance. It didn't work - as the two young Jedi span around Dooku, trying to divert his attention, he seemed to spin with them, always facing an assault head on, and blocking it with a perfectly balanced move. Harry cursed silently - there was a reason Dooku's holocron on lightsaber forms was always being watched - the man was the best duellist the Jedi Order had, and now apparently he was a traitor. It didn't seem to have dented his form - next to the elegant moves of Dooku, Harry's own attacks often seem forced and exaggerated and inefficient.

It was only a matter of time before he started wearing them down, although the duel had only lasted a mere handful of seconds. Kara, frustrated by the constant parries and ripostes, swung a desperate strike a Dooku, but he parried it, knocked her sabre out of her hand, and stabbed her arm at the shoulder. She screamed, and he Force-pushed her away too.

Harry kept going, ignoring the pull of anger as he fought. He tried every trick Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had taught him, every move, every manoeuvre, but steadily, he wore himself out on Dooku's immovable defence.

One mis-step...

He lunged forward, attempting to copy Dooku's style for a moment with a stab, but ended up knocked to the ground by Dooku's fist, and he was stunned for a moment. Before he could get up, Dooku had grabbed his lightsaber from the ground using the Force, and held them both at Harry's throat.

"So you see," the Count of Serenno said, in an almost conversational tone, "I am the superior fighter. You could not win. I'll leave you alive, to remember not to challenge your betters." Damn him, he didn't even sound _tired_!

"Sorry, sir," came a voice from behind them, full of from determination. "I don't think I've learned that lesson yet."

Castor was standing up; his body was held in a battle stance that Harry had never seen before; it reminded him vaguely of the stances the two Sith assassins had used, but surely Castor wouldn't copy them. His sabre – still the one he had taken from Karoc, gleaming red – was held in both hands, his left crossing his body diagonally downwards and meeting his right, the sabre pointing downwards. Behind him lay Hermione and the cauterised week of a car door - Castor had freed her.

* * *

><p>Ignoring the damage to the car and Miss Granger's release, Dooku instead marvelled at the battle stance the boy had taken.<p>

"That looks like… Juyo!" Dooku said appreciatively, blinking as he tried to get over the surprise of seeing someone so young wielding it. "Risky choice you know. Not many Jedi go for it, and Padawans don't normally get taught it. Apparently it leads to the Dark Side." Dooku grinned. "Not that I needed it."

"I saw it first hand," Castor said grimly, his eyes fixed on Dooku's.

"Interesting," Dooku said with a smile. "I look forward to seeing how your style works…"

"Then I'll be happy to oblige you," Castor said, raising the blade in the guard slightly. Quite where the boy had observed Juyo was beyond Dooku's knowledge, but if he had to hazard a guess, Darth Sidious' twin assassins might have been a good place to start. Castor growled, and Dooku smiled, his mind racing. _'Such anger! What if he could be turned, I wonder... he would be a powerful asset, perhaps more so than the girl.'_ After all, who needed an _intelligent_ apprentice - it would be much better to have one he could throw away, and the boy would fit that role perfectly (it was perhaps ironic, not to say unfortunate, that Dooku had no idea how similar to his Master's plans for him these musings on Castor's potential were, but such is the way of the Sith).

"So you wish to challenge me?" Dooku said aloud, holding his sabre in a fighting stance and dropping the black-haired boy's by his feet.

"Yes," replied Castor, the borrowed Sith Blade he wielded shining red. He advanced on Dooku slowly. Dooku grinned at him, beckoning him forward.

"Well, if you want to die, that is your choice," he said amiably. "Let's see who's truly the best."

The young Jedi snarled, and with a battle cry, he charged. First, he swung his blade downwards, his anger pouring into it. Dooku blocked the strike, and found himself forced onto the defensive as Castor spun his blade up, down, left, right and diagonally to try and hit each of his weak spots. Dooku blocked each strike, marvelling that although the boy wielded Juyo with inferior skill to someone like Cin Drallig, his rage made it almost as dangerous as Vaapad in Mace Windu's hands. Almost as _dangerous,_ but definitely nowhere near as _elegant,_ Dooku mentally amended, parrying strike after strike. The attacks were strong, certainly, but they were misjudged, mistimed, and mis-thought, no matter how dangerous the raw power behind them was. He dodged a stab and knocked the blade out of the way, before stabbing himself. Amazingly, the boy parried it and brought the two blades into a clash. Dooku disengaged, spun his blade to adjust his grip, and attacked again.

"Come now, boy," Dooku chided. "You could destroy me if you only released your anger more!" Untrue of course – anger was nothing without focus, and the boy lacked that. However, these sort of lines were typical of Sith _Dun Möch_ and it was a good way of making his opponents make fatal mistakes. "The Dark Side could give you enormous power..."

"I don't want power!" Castor yelled, his eyes blazing with rage. "I want only to defend against the darkness - against scum - like - you!" He lashed out as he spoke, each strike punctuating his words, but they were blocked by Dooku's blade.

Castor stepped back, realising Dooku's tactic, and to the Count's surprise, he smiled. "You might have turned, Dooku, but I won't let you turn me!" He attacked again, rethinking his strategy, mixing up his moves between what he remembered of the Dark Assassin's form - Juyo, did Dooku call it? - and his own Ataru form, in a vain attempt to drive his foe back.

"With every moment, you turn more and more, boy," Dooku countered verbally, even as he countered a mis-stepped blow, and threw Castor off balance again. "I can sense your hatred, building inside you…"

"If there is hatred, it is only toward you, Dooku," Castor snarled, spinning and hitting out again. Dooku blocked it, and stepped back – that one had been good. Almost close – another inch and he'd have ruined Dooku's favourite cloak. The boy was getting closer to falling - just a little more! "I'll kill you, with the Dark Side if that's what it takes!"

Dooku smiled at Castor's bravado – the words of a young, brave fool.

"You cannot defeat me," he said. "You have not the skill, the training, or the power to destroy me." Dooku decided to take a risk - he liked risks, especially when they might garner him success. "I think I shall take your inferiority as surrender in itself."

The boy could only watch, dumbfounded, as Dooku switched off his lightsaber and turned his back on the boy. Castor, sensing the moment to strike, leapt forward, flying through the air, lightsaber raised…

And Dooku turned, unleashing a bolt of Force lightening, which caught Castor and sent him flying. When Castor landed, Dooku walked towards him, and smiled. He held his hand up again – Castor tensed, prepared for pain.

And a bolt of red light knocked Dooku off his feet.

He landed in a heap, and only got up slowly. Dumbledore was standing, his lightsaber on, his wand out, and his face a mask of righteous fury.

"Leave him alone," the wizard said, his voice not betraying his obvious fury. He walked forward. Dooku snarled. He wouldn't be able to catch Dumbledore off guard again, and the thought of fighting him was – unpleasant; the man was obviously more powerful than first appearances would suggest. Still, Dooku wasn't a famed duellist and Jedi Master (before his resignation) for nothing.

"Defend yourself!" he yelled, igniting his sabre.

"I do not wish to fight, but you leave me no other choice," Dumbledore replied, as Dooku attacked. He blocked the first stab, and then the second. Dooku slashed and Dumbledore caught that too.

Dooku noted dispassionately that his foe was apparently not using one of the traditional styles, but an amalgamation, some Ataru moves with a Makashi balance, Juyo stance, Soresu delivery. Dooku found, after a few exchanges, that his own style seemed insufficient to halt this, and the man before him was certainly as experienced as he was. As he spun around, his red blade flashing, he tried a number of different assaults, but none of them worked. Not underhand, not overhand, not side swipes or stabs. He stepped back, deciding to try letting his opponent take the offensive.

Dumbledore took the bait, launching into a blistering offensive that Dooku blocked with equal finesse. First an overhand chop that Dooku redirected, then a stab that Dooku dodged, a cut he blocked, a slash he ducked, and then an array of cutting strikes that the Count of Serenno blocked, albeit barely.

Dumbledore couldn't get the better of him either then – his blue blade caught so many times by the red – but neither could Dooku get the better of Dumbledore. It was a standoff, it seemed. Dooku disliked such a result but he didn't seem to have much of a choice in the matter. He stepped back, saluting quickly with his blade. He could recognise a true challenge when he met one – and by the Force, he had met one.

"You are a truly worthy foe," he congratulated. "I wish I had more time to duel you and test your skill, but alas, you seem to have foiled me. So, farewell, Dumbledore - until the next time."

He leapt off, using the Force to propel himself, before running away, heading for the portal his master was keeping open. Although he would count this day as a failure – it was not a… total loss.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore watched him go, deactivating his lightsaber wearily, before going to help Castor. The boy was already getting up, clearly more than a little sore from his duel with Dooku.<p>

"Are you all right?" asked Dumbledore seriously.

"Yes, I'm fine," said Castor, looking at the Jedi Master with a strange look in his eye. "How much of our conversation did you hear, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed, and gave the young man of his knowing smiles, combined with a piercing look.

"Nothing I paid too much attention to," he said, vaguely. "Although I think you had best keep away from Juyo. Doesn't quite seem… your kind of style."

Castor nodded, taking the hint for the moment, and went over to help Harry. Dumbledore had heard Castor and Dooku's exchange - Dun Möch at it's nastiest - and, watching the boy help his friends, resolved in that moment to keep an eye on Castor. But as Castor helped Harry to his feet, Dumbledore smiled. He did not think that Castor would turn to darkness – his heart was too good, too loyal to his friends. Dumbledore winced as pain shot up his side.

He'd better have a damn good excuse for Madam Pomfrey for bringing three children in with cauterised burns. He had the feeling all the Jedi skills in the world wouldn't stop that woman when she was angry.

* * *

><p>Some time later - after being patched up by Madam Pomfrey, who was more than a little irate - the group had assembled in Dumbledore's office. Chief among their talking points was what precisely Count Dooku had been doing in their universe. Many theories had been voiced about the remoteness of the locale and the comparative vulnerability of the Jedi students here, but the key question – his choice of target – had not been addressed.<p>

"So why did he want Hermione, out of all of us?" asked Ron, voicing the question the others had thought. A difficult question, one Dumbledore had many thoughts about, not least the obvious.

"Among other things, her friendship with you, Harry," Dumbledore began, looking at him with weary eyes. "After all, we know that _someone_ sent the Dark Assassins after you. It is possible that this was Dooku."

"So why involve Hermione?" Kara asked, frowning.

"Possibly he thought kidnapping Miss Granger would benefit his cause against Harry somehow," Dumbledore answered.

Harry frowned. "It certainly would have been upsetting."

"He also wanted to 'recruit' her, he said," Ron put in, noting that particular phrase amongst all the other things Dooku had said before scorching his arm.

"I dare say he believed her to have qualities that made her a potential Sith Lady," the old Wizard replied, choosing his words as carefully as he could in order to spare Miss Granger's feelings - Hermione was standing alone in the corner of the room, out of choice – on hearing Dooku wanted her, she had looked absolutely mortified. "I can only hazard a guess as to what those qualities might be..."

"What qualities?" the girl asked in a quiet voice. After all, it isn't every day that someone tells you that you're a Sith Lord's next choice of apprentice.

"Your intellect and thirst for knowledge, perhaps," said Dumbledore, theorising on the spot. "Knowledge is the purest form of power, and gaining power is the key philosophy of the Sith Code." Hermione nodded, accepting this reasoning. "Another reason he wanted you may have been your occasional short temper," the old Master continued. "Which is never a good thing for a Jedi to have, but hopefully under my tutelage you shall learn to control it."

Hermione nodded, the mortified expression dampening slightly. She was clearly feeling a little better.

"So do we tell Yoda and the rest of the Jedi Council that Dooku has turned to the Dark Side?" asked Castor, grimy. "It would seem the right thing to do."

"No," replied Dumbledore firmly. "That is not necessary."

"But if Dooku has turned..." started Kara.

"Then it is the Council who must deal with it," finished Dumbledore. "We cannot here, without solid proof that it was Dooku, just go accusing him of turning to the dark side."

"It was Dooku though," Harry said earnestly. "I saw him in conversation with Master Qui-Gon a couple of times – it _was_ him."

"Can you prove it though?" asked Dumbledore, and Harry looked slightly less certain. "My point is that Dooku may still have friends on the Jedi Council, and Yoda helped train him – saying that a former protege of Yoda's has turned to the Dark Side will not go down well."

Harry nodded, clearly unhappy with this entire situation. Kara sighed and put her face in her hands, Ron and Hermione nodded, not really understanding this bit of Jedi Politics, and Castor – Dumbledore watched Castor intently. He was merely standing, and hadn't even nodded at Dumbledore's words, but his fists were closed and his teeth seemed to be gritted under his closed mouth.

"I think we should all get some rest," Dumbledore said slowly. "Ron and Hermione – go home, I've arranged transport. Harry, Castor and Kara can go to the dormitories."

They all nodded, and started to leave, when Dumbledore spoke again.

"Miss Granger?" he said. She turned to look at him. "Don't worry. You won't turn to the Dark Side. That much is certain to me now."

She smiled, and left with a slightly less downcast look on her face. Dumbledore sat back, and relaxed. Perhaps Dooku was a Sith, or a Dark Jedi, or some other form of Dark Force User, but it didn't matter. It didn't affect his plan.

Dumbledore turned towards the Pensieve, and focused on the memory, which slowly began to form in the murky depths of the device.

Many years ago, he had received a Force Vision, and what he saw haunted him to this day. The image rose out of the Pensieve and he stared at it grimly. It was a vision of the great hall of Hogwarts - there were many lightsaber users there, Jedi all, Dumbledore could tell – that was where he had gotten the idea for sending Harry to be trained from, and why he had consented to allow Castor and Kara here as well.

The hall in this image was battered. There were cloaked and masked figures lying on the floor, and more stood up, shooting curses. It was an image of Jedi at war against magic users, and it terrified Dumbledore – because he knew that in that battle, the students of Hogwarts were the ones who would surely suffer.

He sighed, and closed his eyes. The image vanished, the Pensieve returning to its inactive state.

He would protect the students of Hogwarts with every breath in his body – and beyond. This he vowed as a Jedi Knight, and as a Wizard. This school was sacred, and could not – would not – be harmed while he drew breath. But if the Sith had plans in this universe, as it seemed that they did, he could not guarantee that the School would be safe. All he knew was that he would die to defend it. 


End file.
